


Old Scales, Tales and Dragons

by NevaRYadL



Category: Original Work
Genre: And if they're not well... take a wild guess what happens, Canon Non-Binary Characters, Canon Trans Characters, Dragons, Elves, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fantasy setting, I love that I can do that since it's my work, LGBTQ Cast, M/M, MLM Romance, Non-traditional fantasy tropes, Original Fantasy Races, Original work - Freeform, Repurposed fandom oc, Slow Burn, Vampires, Viking Era Like Setting, Werewolves, so many elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: Gunnar Blessed-Shield has returned to the homeland of his mother to see to her departure from this realm. Being a single father of a young daughter, Gunnar has decided that it is time find steady work and a steady home and be responsible.Now if only the Fates would let him do so.





	1. The Traveling Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Hello one and all. This is my attempt to take my Skyrim OC Gunnar Blessed-Shield and give him an oc universe and novelize his adventures there. While the Skyrim feel may remain, I'm trying for all new original content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Fixed my own racist story telling and now have a character correctly portrayed as mixed race as she should have been

When faced with a difficult fight, in which death seems imminent, all sentient beings can only resort to two of the most basic and neigh animalistic instincts that is ingrained in all of us.

One instinct is fight. 

In which one will fight to either their own death or their enemies’ death. This instinct is often chosen when it seems like there is a chance for victory or the attacking party is exceptionally reckless or if the party is actually seeking ‘honorable’ death in battle. Indulging in the age old ‘fight’ instinct often results in blood, gore, guts and death, though some would say that is why it is the more honorable and desirable instinct to indulge in. Others would say its the barbaric and reckless instinct to indulge.

In a sense, ‘fight’ leads to epic ballads of bravery and honorable deaths, it can also leave the ‘heroes’ and the ‘villains’ dead, leaving a bitter taste to the tale. Glory or death, a code that some live by and others avoid.

The other instinct is to take ‘flight’. 

Or to flee the fight either to escape the fate of the battle or to fight another day. This instinct is indulged when the fight seems hopeless, a undesirable result would come from the situation or if someone is of a ‘cowardly’ disposition. Indulging in this instinct can insure one’s life or present one’s back to their opponents and thus an unseen death on their part and can result in seeing another day, the loss of one’s standing and reputation or sadly end in one’s death. It is said that this instinct is the more cowardly option, others the more sane and thought based instinct.

In a sense, ‘flight’ leads to the fight happening another day and thus allows a more favorable fate or outcome. Though it can demote the ‘heroes’ to cowards or the brave into ‘foolish’. Cowardice or continuation, a hard choice for some and an easy one for others.

These reactions are inbred even in the strongest of warriors, the mightiest and smartest of mages and the most agile and cunning of thieves and cannot be denied, as the mightiest of warriors, smartest of mages and cleverest of rogues have yet to find a way to go against these instincts. It is impossible to resist them, no matter the strength of will or mind. 

So Haakon, who was supposed to be a shining example of the bravery of the local branch of the ever famed and simply named Warriors’ Guild, felt no loss of pride as he dashed down the hill with Sonja hot on his trail running behind him. Their boots struck snow and rocks as they fled as fast as their legs could physically do so from the three hulking and angry trolls chasing after them. 

While they would have normally taken the challenge head on as befitting warriors of their skill, natures and fame, they had originally only prepared to fight one troll. All well and well and they could have very well taken on three trolls had they had some time to take in the extra challenge. But they had none. And these three trolls were massive things that were gnarled and scarred from many fights with adventurers that they had obviously won. 

One troll had swiped one massive and muscled arm and sent Sonja’s suddenly broken sword flying into the snow and another had shredded Haakon’ shield as though it were parchment paper. With only one sword between them, they had indulged in that age old ‘flight’ instinct and taken off out of sheer fright. The trolls had unfortunately given chase, indulging ‘fight’.

“Just my damn luck,” Haakon grumbled, fighting to go as fast as he could without tripping on his own feet. 

Tripping and falling now and then being devoured or mauled to death was the last thing needed after already running like a coward from the Under-Shade damned things. Sonja was going to give him passive-aggressive jabs their running later, not that she was complaining now, panting hard to keep up with him as they ran. He would give her Under-Shade for it later right back… if they lived.

Haakon wove through a few trees and then leapt over a fallen tree, Sonja jumping with him and almost tripping but some frantic limb flailing managing to keep her right and kept running.

“We need help!” She huffed between labored breaths.

There was a road nearby that Haakon was aiming for that was patrolled by local city guards. And while it was highly plausible that they would not be happy about two Warriors Guild members bursting from the forest with three trolls on their tails, it was just as likely that they would help slay the beasts. They would get an earful for making the guards actually do their jobs, but they would live. And sure, there would be Under-Shade about it later, Sigmund would be sure to give him a good long lecture about it, but it was all preferable to dying.

“The road, the guards will help,” He barked out.

Haakon saw the clearing between the trees off to his side and went for it before even considering that town was straight ahead. Blood was pumping too quickly for thoughts to be made sense, even for Haakon that was often prided for his level thinking. Flight was in complete control and Haakon’ panicked mind was just trying to escape the danger and forcing his limbs to act. Thought lost priority to survival, as it usually did when the mind was faced with death. Haakon made what probably would have been a fatal mistake of taking the wrong turn.

If fate were also not in full swing.

Haakon nearly tripped over his own feet taking the necessary sharp turn, and nearly went tumbling down the hill, Sonja gripping the back of his armor to follow and nearly tossing him off his feet. But miraculously he did not and made a clear shot for the clearing, taking off with impressive speed even with the weight of his armor and the fatigue already plaguing him. 

Adrenaline was singing in Haakon’ veins, the wolf inside of him aiding in his escape, giving Haakon to push to keep running but also pushing against hs control. But it needed to be kept tampered down because Haakon could not indulge in the wolf’s song in his veins and transform before Sonja or anywhere near unwitting humans. There was no telling what the wolf’s song would make him do with control and the thought of tearing apart someone innocent--

Daring to look back, Haakon saw the trolls as they fumbled over themselves with the turn, with some rather humorous slipping and sliding over themselves. It did not take them long to regain their footing and they were soon after Haakon and Sonja again, and gaining fast. Trolls were tricky like that, you would think that climbing a cliff or a tree would be safe and the tough little buggers would be right after you, nearly defying gravity trying to get to you. Once trolls wanted something, they went near mad trying to get it. And these lot seemed particularly crazed.

The fuckers were persistent, Haakon had to give them that at the very least, but he sure as his heart beating in his chest that he was not going to die to them. Haakon decided to focus solely on the path ahead of them and looked ahead just in time to see a dark shape appear between the trees. It was big, bulky and as far as he could see, it looked dangerous.

“Fuck my luck,” Haakon groaned.

“Duck!”

The warrior went to his knees purely on instinct, dragging Sonja down with him, skidding past the dark shape right as a giant sword swung right above his head as time seemed to slow down. 

The sound of a sword whistling through the air mingled with Sonja’s surprised shout and the sound of her helm getting caught and pulled from her head as what looked like a sword as it arched over them. There was the familiar sound of steel meeting flesh and the wet splash of blood licking the air quickly followed, melding with the sound of the metal on Haakon’ shins scraping snow and rock covered ground as they slid.

Haakon skidded to a halt as they hit dirt that softened his momentum and swiveled around on his knees and saw the cloak of some humanoid flutter into the line of trees, stepping over the body of a decapitated troll corpse. A roar rippled through the air, followed by the sounds of a sword repeatedly meeting flesh and blood falling to the ground in thick rivlets, of fleshy things hitting the ground.

“Who the Under-Shade was that?” Haakon muttered aloud.

“Don’t know,” Sonja panted, wiping away stray drops of Troll blood from her cheeks as she got to her feet.

With a heavy thump, a troll head tumbled through the clearing and landed next to the limp troll body and a certain bitter tasting silence colored the air. Several moments of waiting, of holding their breaths to see if their savior had lived, yielded no fruit.

“Were they…?” Sonja started, breaking the silence.

A large shadow appeared between the trees and they both sprung to their feet and sliding into offensive positions. Haakon still had his one sword and Sonja was more than ready to fight with her fists, ready to fight the last troll to their last breath now that they were not so outnumbered and especially if their savior was still out there. Haakon’ inner wolf snarled and tensed up at the thought of a fight. But they were surprised when the shadow spoke in a normal voice instead.

“You two alright?”

Their savior stepped from between the trees, sheathing their giant greatsword.

“Yeah, thanks for that save,” Sonja sighed, letting her tired arms drop.

With their lives in no apparent danger, Haakon sheathed his own sword as the stranger, a rather tall and broad human man, stepped out from the shade of the trees. Exceptionally tall too, even against Haakon’s admirable height, and broad across with muscles.

“No problem, I was out looking for trouble anyway,” The man grinned, a charming flash of white teeth and with the crinkle of his cheeks offsetting a worn eyepatch covering his left eye.

“Well thank the gods you happened onto our trouble,” Haakon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as the adrenaline faded and fatigue and tiredness struck him full force with the wolf song fading in his viens. What he would not have given to be back home at that moment, out of his armor and soaking in a hot bath or laying in bed. “What name do we give you, stranger?”

“Gunnar Blessed-Shield,” The man grinned. And then to their absolute surprise, another person revealed themself. Gunnar’s hood rustled and then pulled back, revealing a child of perhaps five to seven years of age, with stunningly dark curly hair and bright and gorgeous brown eyes. They appeared to be tucked up against Gunnar’s back underneath his cloak. “And this sweet treasure is my daughter, Asta. Who are you two?”

“Haakon, nice to meet you two.”

“Sonja.”

“Well, Haakon and Sonja, want to help a old man and a sweet munchkin out and help them get to the nearest city? We’re sort of lost…” Gunnar chuckled sheepishly, “Hence why I was looking for trouble.”

“Sure thing, now that we don’t have trolls trying to eat our faces,” Sonja smiled friendly like. “Also, I don’t know about Haakon, but I’d feel bad if we didn’t give you a good cut of the job money for killing those trolls… if you keep mum on how bad it was?”

“Sounds fair,” Haakon said with a nod. Seemed like fair trade for his life or losing control to the wolf’s song.

“Ha! No need, but I’ll keep mum,” Gunnar laughed, following Sonja as she lead the way, her being the most way wary of her and Haakon. Asta pulled the hood up and over Gunnar’s head, effectively vanishing except when a strong wind would knock Gunnar’s cloak back enough to reveal the sling she was sitting in strapped across his back. “If there’s one thing I understand, it’s that sometimes you want somethings left unsaid to save face.”

Along the way back to the city, their city Lupas Lacum, they made easy talk with Gunnar. 

Gunnar was an older man that had just arrived in the north after traveling from, surprisingly, his home in the elven lands. Upon request, Gunnar told them stories of living with Freeland elves, of living in the wild and untamed forests with the creatures both small and harmless to large and incomprehensible and eldritch god like. Gunnar had returned home too see his mother’s final travel to Sovngarde before taking her ashes to be buried in Vinterhimmel at her final request.

“Did you put her into a crypt?” Sonja asked, “Because we here in Vinterhimmel have a problem with our crypts…”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Gunnar laughed with no humor, “You’re dead don’t stay dead. Thankfully the ol’ warrior had a few plans for me to see too if one or more fell through. If I couldn’t find a nice enough crypt, find either a nice tree and bury her ashes among the roots so that the tree may take her within it and let her live forever. Or find a nice sea and set her ashes to the wind so that she may ride the currents forever. Since I don’t know where people chop tree and wouldn’t want someone chopping it down, I found a sea… to the north I think? Anyway, I set her to the winds there and the sea gratefully took her into its arms.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Sonja smiled, “With how some warriors live, it’s not often our final wishes are granted.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Gunnar sighed with such a weight in his low and rough voice that it seemed like he knew that first hand. “Still, done is done. And I figure Vinterhimmel seems teeming with adventure, so I’m sticking around for awhile and do right by Asta. She needs a home and her dad needs to stop traveling like he’s young still.”

“Well if you need adventure and steady coin, you can always join the local branch of the Warriors Guild,” Haakon suggested. “We could always use skilled warriors like you. And I’m not saying that just because you saved us.”

“I’ll think about it, it’s been awhile since I had anyone to adventure with,” Gunnar grinned. “And steady coin is always nice.”

Haakon peered at the man’s back, at the child hidden underneath.

“Strange for a warrior to carry his kid into combat,” Haakon noted before quickly catching the implications of his sentence. “I mean-- pardon me I didn’t mean to be rude. I mean most warriors would keep their children away from combat until it’s time to teach them the ways of combat. And your child seems… young.”

“Ah, that’s just me,” Gunnar sighed, “I’m paranoid about her and would rather have her with me. I don’t have a spouse or a loved one to watch over her. And it’s been… a long time since either of us had a steady home.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility for a single man to take on,” Sonja said.

“I would bear the weight of the world for Asta as though it were a speck of sand.”

Wow.

They walked Gunnar and Asta to the front gates of Lupas-Lacum, waving at the guards that grunted out tired greetings. They explained a bit about what was where in the city, including divulging the information about where the Warriors Guild was and again extending an invitation to join. And also pointed out the tavern and mentioned that there was a house for sale in the city before bidding him a good day and again thanking him for the save. They left Gunnar waving at the gate before trudging tiredly to the guild hall.

“Think he’ll join?” Sonja mused as they walked.

“Who knows? The steady coin might entice him but… a warrior’s life is not a life for a single parent and certainly not one that is so paranoid of something happening to their child that they take them into battle…” Haakon hummed.

“True…”

* * *

“Hey papa?” Asta said.

“Yes, treasure?” Gunnar said as he fed another spoonful of stew into Asta’s mouth. She chewed slowly and swallowed before speaking, a proper little lady with manners.

“Are you gonna join the nice people?” Asta asked.

“I don’t know, treasure, I don’t know,” Gunnar said as he took a spoonful himself. Two servings in a large bowl to feed them both, plus bread and water. Gunnar could feed them like this twice a day plus a smaller meal for perhaps a month before his meager savings were wiped out. He needed to start making money again and soon.

Asta did not ask again, just ate silently with her papa. When they were finished, Gunnar cleaned her face off good and took her up to their rented room for the foreseeable future (until someone offered better long term payment, the tavern owner had assured them).

“This won’t be for long, I promise,” Gunnar said as Asta crawled underneath the covers, himself taking off his boots and armor and laying them aside. “Just need money to buy a house…”

Gunnar would need to stop by the Jarl’s holdings to see about that house. As much as the pay would be far out of his savings range, as adventuring was never one for sanely saving up any large amount of coin.. he was getting old and Asta was getting bigger and her needs were changing and soon he would not be able to afford to feed them both. Not to mention he could not drag her into combat with him forever because he was terrified of leaving her alone. Of failing that promise...

Asta snuggled up against his chest when he got underneath the furs as well. He ran his hands (when had they gotten so big and rough?) through her black hair. Corkscrew like and thicker than his due to her mixed race and blood. He twirled it around one of his thick fingers as Asta dozed off on him, clutching at his chest as she did in her sleep. This sweet child, this priceless treasure of his... how did he get so gods damned lucky to get her he would never know but he thanked the gods none the less for her and held her close before allowing himself to fall asleep.

* * *

Gunnar had a few odds and ends to sell to the various shopkeepers when morning broached and threw its dazzling colors across the sky and the slow to wake town. Small things, like a quiver of mismatched arrows, a necklace and a few rings, a few potions that did him no good, and Asta had picked flowers when they had walked yesterday. It was not much, but it helped make back some of the money that renting the room long term and their dinner and breakfast.

“Well… what should we do today?” Gunnar sighed to his precious treasure as he bent down behind her and showed her the haul cupped in his bigs hands. Her much smaller ones shuffled the coins around mindlessly, already a child extremely dis-interested in money or shiny things.

“Jarl?” Asta offered.

“Wanna see if the Jarl has work?”

“Yeah!”

“Alright munchkin, let’s go see if the Jarl has work,” Gunnar said as Asta slipped around him to his back, getting into her sling and resting her cheek on the back of Gunnar’s neck.

The Jarlings holdings were supposed to be in the center of the city, so that people could get to him. From what Gunnar understood of his culture that he had not touched until now, the Jarl’s holdings were supposed to be modest to show that while the Jarl was the leader, he was still a man of the people for the people. Maybe Jarl’s lodgings could be large, it was always to house people in general or his inner court but… this.

Asta leaned forward over Gunnar’s shoulder until she could smush her cheek against Gunnar’s as they stared in disgust and horror.

The holdings were… a castle. A actual castle crammed at the very back of the hold and probably taking up a third of the walled off city, complete with high and highly defended walls and stained glass windows. What’s more, draped across the sprawling roof of the castle were various… dragon bones. Like some kind of trophy or conquest. Like some sick joke.

“Papa,” Asta muttered as his heart throbbed painfully. Gunnar grunted breathlessly, managing to worm a hand in underneath his chestplate to knead at his throbbing with pain chest. It took a moment of kneading and avoiding looking at the roof for the pain to even start to lessen. Asta pet his tense neck to ease him along until his heart stopped hurting enough for him to breathe again.

“Papa?” Asta asked.

“I’m… I’m fine treasure. You know how papa feels about people who hunt dragons is all,” Gunnar grunted out, keeping his eyes low as he approached the damn castle.

The guards stopped him at the steps. Since when do guards stop people from seeing the Jarl? Gunnar said that he was an adventurer looking for work. It took a bit of going back and forth before he was allowed up the grand steps and by then, Gunnar’s annoyance and anger building. A city like this… there was a wonder that he would prefer to live in the wild without anyone near him.

Inside the castle looked like a castle. Filled with hollow riches and decorum and hardly a soul in sight. It made Gunnar’s stomach wretch and his heart start hurting again. Gunnar walked past a grand entrance hall and into a central looking area. A fire was going and thus the room was much warmer than the outside, enough for Asta to pull the hood down to get away from some of the heat from being pressed against his back and the heat likely seeping through his cloak. She looked dully at everything, with a hint of disgust forming at the corners of her mouth.

The Jarl was sitting in a throne of odd bones that Gunnar could not place because they appeared mixed up and chosen from several different creatures to look good. The man on the throne was… disheartening. Jarls were supposed to be the working man turned leader and this man looked… pale and soft, decked out in rich robes and with a crown of ruby and gold on his brow. Royalty… not a Jarl that Gunnar had heard of.

And not even someone that he could talk too.

He was quickly directed by a City elf to speak with her instead. And she did not even bother giving him more than a dozen words, just skimming a book, ripping a page out and handing it over and telling him to get out. But by then Gunnar was grateful for the leave and just stormed out, glaring at anyone who happened to meet his eyes.

The cold was welcoming on his skin when he finally stepped outside and descended the stairs. The wilds would be even more welcoming--

“Papa?”

Gunnar caught himself feeling tense with his mounting anger. Her little hands were at his neck, she could feel the muscles tensing underneath the skin.

“Sorry treasure... “ Gunnar sighed deeply, feeling age tug on his joints. He took the scrap of paper out and looked it over. It seemed that they needed a bandit leader killed not too far from city limits, they wanted the man’s head as proof of the deed. Gunnar frowned at that. A leader meant a group following them and that meant more danger if he brought Asta with him…

“We’re fighting bandits this time. Do you remember what to do?” Gunnar asked.

“Hide where you tell me. Scream if I’m found,” Asta recited.

“Good girl. Let’s go!”

* * *

The bandits were not too hard to take care of, especially when he tucked away Asta in the roots of a large dead tree for hiding and could focus on the task at hand.

They had no idea what to do against a man with one eye and a sword as tall as himself. He cleaved through most of their flimsy leather and fur armor. Those that actually had iron or steel covering their hide got his sword through tender and unprotected parts like throats and eyes. Those armed with bows and arrows found their arrows bouncing off his own armor and his sword.

The leader himself was all bark and no bite, firing off empty threats as he came at Gunnar like a man possessed and died screaming all the same. His head went into a bag and Gunnar grabbed Asta to hunt through the camp for any valuables. His little treasure was good with hunting little valuable things down, an eagle-eye in training. When they picked the camp clean of everything worth carrying, they headed back to the city for the real money.

Everything seemed fine and well, he sold all the extra stuff and made a fair bit of coin off of it and added it to his stash. But then he went to cash in the bounty and well..

“This is it?” Gunnar asked as he looked at the pathetic pouch handed to him.

“It’s a reasonable fee,” The City elf retorted.

“I got more coin selling their junk,” Gunnar said, his tone threatening anger.

“The Jarl cannot give out handouts for doing something so trivial as taking out a… what was it? A bandit group?” The elf said, clearly versed in this argument.

Gunnar decided that the Jarl could go to Under-Shade and would never lift a finger to help him again.

But that meant Gunnar was shit out of luck for a means of income if bounties pulled in child’s change. What the Under-Shade was he supposed to do if even helping the Jarl could not provide?

“Papa, look, the nice people,” Asta said.

Gunnar had been contemplating what he was going to do to provide for his daughter and himself, sitting on a bench next to a local temple to what Gunnar could only assume was the Bear Warrior. The Bear Warrior was a popular god to please in calm and pleasant cities. Asta had been playing in the sun and grass and flowers until she stopped to point out whom she spoke of. And speaking of, it looked like Sonja and Haakon from yesterday were going into the temple. They had their heads down and were speaking quickly before they disappeared inside the temple.

“Hmm…” He hummed.

Guilds normally paid well enough. Nothing extravagant but they usually housed for free or at a very low cost, normally offered three meals a day and if Gunnar was good with his money, savings enough to buy a house in the future. And that was all that Gunnar could ask for at this point.

“Hey Asta, my treasure. Want to watch papa join a guild?” Gunnar grunted as he stood.

“Are you gonna join the nice people?” Asta asked, stepping to his side to grab onto two of his fingers. The most she could with her small hands.

“If they can help feed us,” Gunnar smiled as he lead the way.

Remember the instructions from the other day, Gunnar walked through the city until he came across a low and long building with a fenced off yard of some size, about the right edge of town so that it was was not taking up too much central space.

The building looked old and made of repurposed wood, like the description given to him and their yard bearing a few warriors in their gear and training. It was perhaps the oldest building the city that Gunnar could point out so far, as it had been described and Gunnar wondered how a city probably built around a Warriors Guild ended up with a Jarl like it had. For some reason, the smell of dog was faint in the air around the building and got much stronger when they stepped inside.

The inside of the building definitely smelled like dog and got shown why when several war-dogs lifted their large shaggy heads from various spots that they were lying in the main open floor plan room to look up at him and Asta entering.

“Puppies,” Asta stated simply.

Said ‘puppies’ were well trained enough to not lurch up and rush them, thankfully. Each had to weigh twice as much as little Asta and Gunnar did not one knocking her down looking for attention or being too energetic and curious. They still watched them like good guard dogs as Gunnar walked over to what looked like a pair of stairs and headed downstairs.

Down the stairs looked like living quarters with actual walls and doors and smelled more heavily of dog. There were a few more war-dogs downstairs that did the same as the ones above stairs, though a few tiny pups did come up to sniff at them, easily being shooed off. Asta did giggle when one got close enough for her to put her little hand on its wet nose, the dog huffing and Gunnar taking her now wet hand and cleaning it off on his cloak.

It took a bit of navigating, but Gunnar finally found someone and it was… Haakon and an older gentlemen?

“--I’m managing well enough,” Haakon sighed tiredly while the older gentlemen cocked a knowing eyebrow. Haakon had worn dark war paint around his eyes before. It had made his face appear gaunt and made his silver almost white eyes almost terrifyingly pop. But now that face was void of it… and the dark bags underneath his eyes spoke of much. “But I still hear the wolf’s song when I falter.”

“We all do, the wolf preys on us at our weakest times. We are it’s prey, make no mistake about it, Haakon. But we can always outsmart it,” The older man said reassuringly.

“I know… but the prey has to get tired of outsmarting the predator at one point and I am feeling the strain...”

“You will be fine, I have faith,” The older man said before turning to look at Gunnar. He had the same striking silver eyes in slightly sunken and wrinkled sockets. Despite the man’s age, Gunnar had a feeling that he could easily strike down Gunnar despite his strengths.

“We have a stranger in our den,” The man smiled friendly like.

“Sorry, it looked like you two were having a serious conversation, I didn’t want to interrupt,” Gunnar said, squeezing Asta’s hand in his fingers. He silently threw up a prayer to the gods that this worked for them. “I would like to join the Warriors Guild, are you the one I talk too?”

“Would you now?” The old man hummed thoughtfully, “Come here, let me look closely at you.”

Gunnar bid Asta to stand silently over to the side, away from these men because that sense of paranoia would always remain with him, before stepping closer. The man’s eyes, eyes that felt like they belonged more to an animal of some predatory repute then a man older then even Gunnar, scanned him up and down and took note of everything. Everything from Gunnar’s sword on his back to his armor, to his eyes and even his legs. Shit maybe the old man would not be able to tell...

“Perhaps… I can tell that despite your missing an eye and a leg that you are a man of great skill,” The man said.

Shit he could.

“Yes, I think you’ll fit in just fine here,” The old man said, nodding. “My name is Sigmund. I’m the leader and master of these warriors. Might I have your name?”

“My name is Gunnar Blessed-Shield,” Gunnar said.

“I’m Asta Blessed-Shield!” Asta chimed.

“Greetings to both of you,” Sigmund smiled, “... Now that I think about it, you’re probably the man that saved Haakon here the other day? Isn’t he, Haakon?”

“Uh… yes, Master Sigmund,” Haakon grumbled.

“Wait… I saw you entering the temple on my way here…” Gunnar said, slightly confused.

“You probably saw my twin brother, Amund,” Haakon explained. “We’re identical twins, except he wears his hair longer and wears slashes of war paint across his face. It’s easy to tell us apart, actually.”

Gunnar put a hand to his chest, putting on a look of complete and scandalized shock even as Asta giggled.

“Are you SERIOUSLY going to try and make fun of the man with only one eye? The one that saved you?”

“No wait just a second--”

Gunnar and Sigmund burst out laughing.

“I tease, I tease,” Gunnar laughed as he mock wiped at his lone eye.

“A fiery spirit, something that we don’t often see from potential new recruits. I think we can use him, but your thoughts Haakon?”

“Well I can certainly vouch for his skill. And you are right and that we need more self assured warriors in our midst, _with_ the actual skill to back it up and not just be full of hot air and cockiness,” Haakon hummed thoughtfully. “I think he will do well. Shall I test him?”

“Do you feel it necessary?” Sigmund asked.

“More of a formality, master. Procedure and all that.”

“Very well. Gunnar, please follow Haakon to the yard outside.”

Haakon rose and gestured for Gunnar to follow him with Asta tagging along while keeping a grip on Gunnar’s fingers. Back down the hall, the man stopped inside one of the side rooms and quickly donned his armor from the other day, Gunnar noted that there were new pieces and it damage from the troll’s teeth and claws had been fixed by what looked like a veteran hand. He made note to ask about a blacksmith, it was always good to get friendly with blacksmiths.

“I’m just going to have you take a few practise swings at a training shield, get a feel of your fighting style,” Haakon explained as they came back upstairs and headed for the backdoor. “I know you have skill, but knowing exactly what the skill is will help us give you the best jobs or pair you with others for more difficult jobs.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I’m second in command, by the way,” Haakon said. “I help master Sigmund run operations, training, devling out the jobs and the like. When Sigmund retires or if the… unfortunate happens, I’ll lead.”

“Wow,” Gunnar whistled, impressed.

“Hope you don’t mind taking orders from a younger man,” Haakon said quiet seriously.

“You can’t be that much younger then me.”

“I’m thirty two.”

“I just turned thirty five not that many months ago,” Gunnar retorted, slightly offended.

“Still,” Haakon laughed, “To some people that matters. Will it matter to you?”

“Well if you’re going to be insulting about it--” Gunnar said before grinning when Haakon gave him a hard look. “No. You’re obviously second in charge for a reason and I’m just starting out. Age doesn’t mean ones gets automatic respect or leadership skills.”

“Glad someone understands that,” Haakon grumbled.

“Having some troubles, are we?”

They stepped outside and to the training yard. Outside the sun was shining and there was a bit of warmth in the air as they chose a nice spot away from any of the training dummies and away from the others training. It looked like that there were a diverse range of people in the guild, which was good. Gunnar’s mother had told him numerous times of the seemingly inbred racism and racial bigotry of their kind when he was young and swore by it until her death.

Haakon ignored his question, instead picking up a shield from a rack of banged up shields. Not wanting to accidently harm Haakon or cleave through a shield, Gunnar placed his sword to the side and asked Asta to sit out of the way and be careful. She said that she would cheer him on before sitting by his sword as he stood across from Haakon.

“Ready?” Haakon asked.

“Ready,” Gunnar grinned.


	2. Old Tales Laden with Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually having a lot of fun writing this and already easing my way into the gay

Gunnar was often weighed down by his armor or sword, both things far out of the weight class of someone his size, weight and muscle mass. But despite pretending otherwise, Gunnar was far from a normal man and purposefully weighed himself down with thick armor and wielding a sword that would retch or destroy the shoulders and elbows of normal people for the sake of appearing human and normal.

The practice sword, the edges blunted until it was more like a metal stick then blade, was far too light in his hands despite being a two handed weapon. For a normal person, it would be of decent weight. But Gunnar ended up using it one handed to avoid discomfort from the lack of weight and even then, his muscles were confused from the lack of something pulling down on his arm. The lack of something weighing him down was going to be a distraction.

“Alright, just a few swings,” Haakon said, holding up the shield.

Gunnar slid into an offensive stance, feeling his muscles tense. Just a few swings…

He swung. And the sword hit the shield.

Haakon recoiled, the shield ringing with the force of the strike and a now visible dent where the strike landed proof of Gunnar’s arm strength. Haakon stumbled from the force, regaining his footing quickly and with ease before peering over the edge of the shield to look at the damage.

“Gods be damned. I knew you were strong and you’re certainly muscular, but to do this damage with a blunted sword!” 

Haakon hummed in thought. Gunnar worried that that ‘thought’ was ‘is this man human’ or something about being outed to the guards.

“And one handing a two handed sword too… come at me again.”

Gunnar rotated his wrist and took position again. When Haakon rose his shield again, Gunnar breathed out and swore he tasted heat on his tongue before swinging again.

Haakon stumbled back, eyes wide as the man looked first towards Gunnar and then tilted his shield to look at the sword lodged within the metal surface.

“Gods, are you okay?!” Gunnar fretted, coming up to Haakon and gingerly tugging on the sword. It was stuck and for a terrified moment, Gunnar thought that he had bit into flesh, but Haakon did not appear to be in pain...

“Shocked but… fine,” Haakon mumbled, frowning. Gunnar silently applauded this man’s calm and collected state despite the circumstances. “It’s stuck in my gauntlet too... how can you be so strong?”

“Uh… I keep fit,” Gunnar said pathetically before easily pulling the sword free. True to Haakon’s word, there was a gouge that went deep enough to have bitten into his gauntlet. Still, Gunnar made him put the shield aside and take off the gauntlet to look at his arm to make sure that there was no damage there. A bruise was forming sure, but the skin was not broken thankfully. And Haakon even flexed his wrist and fingers to show that the bones were not damaged or broken.

“Well, no real damage done,” Haakon sighed but held up his damaged gauntlet, “Well, not to me at least.”

“Uh… tell you you what? Give that to me and tell me the closest blacksmith and I’ll take care of it,” Gunnar said, groaning at the thought of having to bite into his savings because of this shit.

“Just take it to old man Wuf, he’ll take care of it no charge so long as you tell him why,” Haakon said, also taking up the shield and handing it over. “I’m sure he’ll want to hear it.”

“I’m… so sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Gunnar,” Haakon said firmly, shaking Gunnar from his growing panic, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder to further cement him. “It’s okay. I’m shocked and slightly bruised but fine. And my gear gets destroyed all the time so it really doesn’t bother me or Wuf for that matter. You need not worry about this. And don’t worry about the test either, you passed with flying colors.”

Good, good. Gunnar breathed out heavily and let his tense shoulders slump.

“But I’m serious about taking that to the blacksmith, whelp,” Haakon smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, _boss_ , on it,” Gunnar laughed back.

* * *

Leaving his sword but getting his daughter, Gunnar followed the instructions given to him by Haakon and walked over to the blacksmith’s house. The old forge and newer building were next to a river that cut through the city, naturally, and was situated on one of the edges of the city, likely to let the smoke be away from the homes of the citizens.

The small building was dwarfed by what Gunnar could only be described as an ancient forge built centuries ago and marked with the wear and tear of the ages and faded markings of generations gone long by. Gunnar marveled at it for a moment, Asta leaning back to look at it the eternity of it. This city seemed to have some of the ancient bones of the body that once made it, it seemed. Greed built around the once honorable carcass that must have made the city. If they had opinions and voices, Gunnar was sure that they would not be happy about their new homes.

The forgemaster himself was an old man. Wuf was a white haired, wild haired, old man with the same eyes as Haakon and Sigmund and was generally a beast of a man that was big and broad with a rounded belly to feed his baffling thick muscular arms that dwarfed even Gunnar’s thick arms. Gunnar was sure that the man would be absolutely lethal in a fight… but his full face and obviously smiled creased face and the deep, booming voice that sang as he worked told Gunnar that the man was not quick to jump into one to begin with.

“Greetings!” Gunnar called over the man’s singing voice and the rings of his hammer meeting hot metal.

“One moment, friend!” Wuf called back.

After finishing off the hammering and letting his song come to its end, the man checked the blade for straightness before deeming it good and setting it aside to handle for the moment. The man wiped his hands of sweat and grime before walking over to him with a bright and cheerful smile that told of a radically, genuinely happy soul.

“Greetings friend, how can I help you?”

“Hello, my name is Gunnar. I recently joined the Warrior’s Guild but uh… during my testing I may have…” Gunnar handed over the shield and gauntlet to show him where words failed.

Wuf stared wide eyed at the shield and sword.

“Why did you use a sharpened blade?” Wuf asked.

“I didn’t,” He muttered. Gunnar felt more like a child trying to explain this to the man instead of a grown and older with a child of his own.

Wuf looked at the damaged armor, then Gunnar, then at the damaged armor again, then settled for looking at Gunnar. Wuf’s mouth twitched, making his bushy and slightly singed beard twitch with it, before taking up the shield and gauntlet. The smith looked over the metal with a serious eye before taking them aside.

“I’ll take care of them. But my fee is that you pass on a message for me,” Wuf said, adding the items to a table of projects that were laid out for him to do.

“Of course?” Gunnar muttered, not liking how there was a dark undertone of anger in the man’s voice.

Wuf turned to him and looked him dead in the eyes.

“The song is sacred and should not be shared with someone that the pack doesn’t know about yet.”

* * *

Gunnar returned with those words buzzing around his head.

Song… Hakkon had mentioned a song too earlier in the day. The wolf’s song if Gunnar remembered correctly. The term meant nothing to Gunnar because well… he had never heard it before. Let alone something called ‘the wolf’s song’. There was a curiosity that wanted Gunnar to ask about it… but Wuf’s clear anger of thinking that the song had been shared before ‘the pack knew’ told Gunnar to not stick his nose in things that were obviously none of his business.

Earn money, buy a house, care for Asta. All that mattered.

“Welcome back,” Haakon said when Gunnar came back with Asta in tow. Haakon and Sigmund had moved upstairs and were now sitting at one of the tables with Sonya, all hunched over a thick book.

Gunnar noticed that Haakon had reapplied the dark war paint around his eyes, making it look like his silver eyes were peering out of the darkness. It hid the bags well enough but made Gunnar worry what was bothering the man so much that he was losing sleep over.

“Thank you. Um… Wuf had a message to pass along?”

“Oh?” Sigmund asked.

“‘Do not share the wolf’s song to someone that the pack doesn’t know about yet’,” Gunnar repeated. “Not sure what the means. And I just delivered the gauntlet and shield. Nothing more nothing less.”

Haakon and Sigmund both frowned in confusion, Haakon’s nose crinkling with how deep his frown was. Gunnar was reminded of the one time he stared down a pissed off wolf that was snarling at him to leave its den alone. The distinct wrinkles along its elegant snout. They seemed mirrored on Haakon’s handsome strong nose.

“Strange… thank you for carrying the message, we’ll take care of it,” Haakon said and Gunnar left it that that. None of his business.

“Speaking of taking care of it,” Sigmund said, taking a page out of the book and handing it over to Sonya. “Our friends further south need help with some tombs with restless occupants. Here’s the job ticket.”

“Yes sir,” Sonya said, taking the ticket and heading towards the door.

“We’ll have tickets for you starting tomorrow,” Sigmund said to Gunnar as he went to looking through his book. Some pages were yellowed and crossed off with red ink. Some were newer and littered with notes. Others looked fresh and the ink having just dried. “Haakon tells me your very strong and definitely suited for more difficult extermination contracts. There are a few that I would like to give you, but need details to be finalized first.”

“Thank you sir,” Gunnar said, giving a polite bow of his head.

“None of that nonsense! Not even most of the actual whelps and pups call me ‘sir’,” Sigmund laughed. “You, my fellow old man, can call Sigmund.”

“Right, Sigmund.”

“Can I call you sir?” Asta asked.

“If your heart desires it so, pup,” Sigmund shrugged with a soft smile. He turned to his book and skimmed through it, frowning at the notes some. “Hmm… we’ll have to unload light work soon. It’s piling up.”

“I’ll get some of the whelps to take it on,” Haakon said.

“Bah! Milk drinking, hot aired, brats seeking legendary glory in one battle,” Sigmund grumbled.

“They’re not that bad, master,” Haakon shot back.

Sigmund shrugged and Gunnar vowed to keep Asta away from this man. There was nothing worse then someone old that bitched and complained about younger folks. Asta was well behaved, but already showing signs of being a spitfire when she thought she was being insulted and could in fact give a full grown adult a well versed enough argument when she was pissed off enough. Gunnar cared little for staying in the face of the possibility of a crotchety old man yelling at his daughter. No one got to yell at his daughter, not even him.

“If it would be alright, can I take on some of that light work?” Gunnar volunteered, “I could use the chance to get to know the surrounding city and some of the people.”

“Hmm… not a bad idea,” Haakon suggested. “He is new to these lands, master.”

“Well… maybe a few jobs around the city at least. I do need to get these pups to realize that while not all jobs are glamorous, they are important in their own right and they all help the guild,” Sigmund relented.

Sigmund skimmed through his book and pulled out three pages before handing them over. He explained where a few of the jobs were and what they entailed. It looked like one job was to help a farm shoo away a bear from their fields, one place had an ancient basement with a mysterious creature of a smaller size making a mess and a job that had come in that day about some muscle needed for a quick hand. Gunnar accepted them all and took Asta along with him.

“Don’t you want your sword?” Haakon called out after him.

“It’ll be fine!”

“Not afraid of it being hauled off?” Sigmund called after.

“If someone can lift it, they’re free too,” Gunnar grunted, Asta humming as he opened the door that lead to the outside.

* * *

When Gunnar left the building, Haakon turned to Sigmund.

“So, should I tell Wuf that we haven’t turned him?” Haakon said to the pack’s leader. “What would make the old wolf say such a thing? One could clearly smell that we haven’t turned him, and the man’s eyes-- er, eye is not silver.”

“Wuf is old and not even the wolf’s song can save him from some of the ails of old age,” Sigmund grunted. “Besides that, from what you told me, what logical conclusion could come from how a man took a blunt edge weapon and cleaved into a shield?”

“True… the man is exceptionally strong… too strong for a human man even of his size and muscle mass. But he smells human. And his daughter smells human as well.”

“Strange… perhaps it’s a good thing he’s joined us?”

“He’s a mystery to be sure, but one that will probably need to be peeled back over time,” Haakon hummed thoughtfully, crossing his arms. “I’ll inform all those within the city that we have a new member and we’ll celebrate tonight.”

“Nothing too wild,” Sigmund warned.

“Nothing of the sort, master,” Haakon grinned cheekily.

* * *

The bear was easy enough to shoo. Gunnar just rushed up to the thing and roared and the poor frightened beast scrammed. Gunnar showed them how to lay out hair in the fields to scare away most animals. The farmers were exceptionally grateful for the help and congratulated him on joining the guild, they even gave them both an apple in gratitude.

The mysterious animal in the basement turned out to be a very hungry cat and its kitten that were hunting down rats and bumped into things and tipped them over. The family very happily took the two of them in after cleaning them off.

The muscle job was to help out a carriage not far outside the city walls. One of their wheels had finally gave into wear and tear and broke not too far out the gates, but the carriage was too laden with various deadly silver things to properly repair it. With a few of the guards and two of the people that the carriage belonged too, they heaved the carriage up enough for the broken wheel to be pried off and replaced with a new one.

“Thank you for the help.”

“No problem,” Gunnar grunted, dusting off his hands.

“Papa, I’m hungry,” Asta piped up, bouncing up to his side to grab onto his hand.

“Of course, treasure.”

They made their way back into the city, Gunnar grateful that he had a little knowledge of the city layout and could find his way back to the Warrior’s Guild as the sky was darkening with the coming evening. When they eased into the building, there were a number of people that were not there before. A number of warriors, both human and non-human, chattering and eating and drinking.

Gunnar found Sigmund not far from where he was prior, having moved to a small table closer to the wall and more out of the way as he pondered his book. Gunnar took the papers over to him and carefully laid them out on the edge of the table as not to disturb the man.

“Go well enough?” Sigmund called over the idle chatter.

“Aye. Though that last one might cause trouble later,” Gunnar reported. “I got a peak of what the carriage was carrying and it looked like silver weaponry.”

“Hunters then? Hmm… you’re right about that. Hunters are either fine folks or wild murdering zealots,” Sigmund muttered, scratching at his bearded chin. “We’ll keep an eye out and I’ll warn the guards. You? You can rest for the night. You did well. I have a job set up for you tomorrow that will take you to a smaller settlement not too far to the north.”

“Alright, come treasure.”

No one said anything about the food laid out on the tables when Gunnar took a modest share for himself and Asta. Though when a young faced but big and muscular Orc caught sight of him, insisted that he sit with the thickest throng of people to ‘introduce himself’ to the guild.

“Nice to meet ya, ‘new’ blood, I’m Steel,” The orc grinned.

“Still the lamest assumed name I’ve ever heard,” A Star Elf with a large galaxy mark across their cheeks muttered.

“Eh, it’s tradition to not speak our real names around non-Orcs,” Steel grunted with a shrug before thumping Gunnar’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Gunnar Blessed-Shield,” He said politely enough.

“I’m Asta,” Asta chimed from his lap.

“I’m Andromeda,” The Star Elf said.

“Thorwald!” A loud drunk blonde called from the end of the table.

“Garth is the sullen man sulking in the corner,” Steel said, pointing towards a man tucked away in the corner. “And that’s Haakon’s brother, Amund, about to sit next to you.”

Haakon’s twin sat heavily next to him, nodding in greeting before diving into his dinner. Up close, Gunnar saw that they were indeed creepily mirror features of one another, as one was with twins Gunnar supposed. But this man was distinct in least that he wore his hair long and spotted with braids and wore three slashes of dark war paint across his face that looked faded from the day.

“And quite honestly there’s a good chunk of people that are part of the guild and you’ll learn their names eventually, but we’re here right now!” Steel grinned, punching his shoulder softly.

“I’m sure I will,” Gunnar grinned, moving a mug that smelled like ale away from Asta’s arm reach.

Gunnar chatted up the warriors at the table to learn about some of his coworkers. 

Steel was an Orc that was fresh out of his tribe and earning his right as a warrior. He would go back once he was seasoned enough. Andromeda was much in the same place. They had left home and were out to earn their reputation as an honorable warrior and when they had reached that, would settle down and make a large family. Thorwald was from a long line of warriors and felt no different than them in wanting to be a man of skill and strength, but also mead. Lots and lots of mead. Garth, as told by others, was a spellsword come from some isles down south. He was sour and did not like to talk but was a good enough man. Amund was the quieter of the brothers. Preferred action to talking and was the stronger of the two brothers as well.

“But don’t let that fool you,” Steel said, lowering his voice comically as though to make sure Amund could not hear. “The man can twist you around his little finger if he chose. He’s actually a master manipulator and if he wasn’t gods damned lazy, he’d rule the world.”

Gunnar laughed while Amund just ate his food, completely unfazed.

“Meanwhile his brother, gods bless his soul, is already trying so!” Steel laughed loudly.

“Uh huh,” Haakon said, leaning on Steel while the Orc just grinned crookedly.

“You know what they say! Guild today, politician tomorrow!”

Haakon grunted, elbowing Steel over so that he could sit across from Gunnar. He did not realize that one of the man’s hands were carrying something, a plate with a thick slice of bread with a bit of butter and honey on on it. A plate that he gave to Asta, much to her great delight.

“I hope you don’t mind, I thought for being such an well behaved pup today…” Haakon muttered awkwardly.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Gunnar grinned as his daughter just lit up. “What do you say, treasure?”

“Thank you!” Asta smiled sweetly.

Chuckling, Gunnar stroked his daughter’s hair as she ate her treat.

“What a cutie!” Andromeda cooed, "You are a darling little star.”

Asta just smiled, mouth closed because she had a mouth full of honey and bread. A proper young lady already.

“And more well behaved then some of the adults around here,” Haakon grinned cheekily, smirking when Steel huffed in indignation.

“Hey!”

Gunnar just laughed again. He thought that he would get along with these people. This could very well be a home for the two of them.

* * *

Gunnar was sharing a room with another ‘whelp’ since rooms came with two beds. Andromeda was his roommate.

“They sort people into, uh,” Andromeda tried to explain, eyeing Asta as she climbed into bed all by herself. “People that will not end up together and people that will and be polite about it.”

Gunnar figured that with him having Asta attached to his hip, he would be paired with someone that would be mindful of her and not come onto him. Perfect actually, since Gunnar had not been… that… in almost seven or eight years. Which was fine, really. Asta came first and there would be time for Gunnar to do that with an understanding partner. But for now, everything was fine the way that it was.

“Oh hey, about your sword…”

“Someone tried to lift it, didn’t they?’ Gunnar chuckled sheepishly.

“Steel did and felt quite emasculated by the fact that he couldn’t."

“It’s a special sword, that hunk of ol’ metal,” Gunnar said almost fondly. “It’s been enlarged several times to weigh it down.”

“No kidding. Almost as tall as you and you’re tall, even for a northern man,” Andromeda noted with awe as they sat down in their bed to remove their boots.

“Eh,” Gunnar shrugged, hoping that conversation ended there.

“Papa,” Asta said suddenly, making them both look at her.

“Yes, treasure?”

“I want a bedtime story.”

“Well we’re sharing a room with someone, treasure--”

“Can my papa tell me a bedtime story please?” Asta asked Andromeda.

“Depends on the story,” Andromeda answered cheekily.

“I want to hear about the golden dragon again!”

“Treasure, you’ve heard that story over a hundred times already,” Gunnar chuckled fondly, stroking her hair.

Asta pouted, making her eyes big and sticking out her lower lip and of course, Gunnar was extremely weak to the look and sighed in defeat before climbing into bed and pulling her close to him.

“Golden dragon?” Andromeda asked.

“Yes, I saw a golden dragon once in my travels. Metallic dragons are rare, but precious metals based dragons are rarer still, to the point that some people don’t believe that they exist,” Gunnar explained.

Asta pulled her necklace free of her dress, something that she jealously guarded and kept secret except for a very rare few times. A dragon scale, still lustrous and gold after six years of keeping. Andromeda’s eyes got so big that Gunnar could make out the white specks on their black eyes as they looked over the scale. Everyone knew dragon scales from their clear and distinct shape and it was clear that it was gold and not pyrite.

“Well now I want this bedtime story too, do tell,” Andromeda said, getting comfortable in their bed.

“Alright, alright,” Gunnar chuckled.

Taking in a deep breath, Gunnar let it out slowly as he told the tale.

Once he was a younger man. Tempered a bit by time and not quite as rash as he was in his younger days. He stopped in a village to purchase supplies and ended up staying a few days. On the day that he set out to leave, the village was attacked by a seeming horde of bandits. He stood against them alone as everyone else fled for their lives, wielding his sword against dozens and dozens of men.

“I’m good, but one man against that many men? Even I suffered,” Gunnar said.

“Your hurting parts,” Asta said.

“Aye, treasure. A man took my eye first as I was trying to gather myself after taking down seven men, a swing from crown to jaw,” Gunnar said. “And while I was blinded by my own blood, a man swung a greatsword and took my leg.”

But even half blind and down a leg, he fought and fought and fought. Fought like a man possessed he did. And when the last man laid dead, Gunnar finally rested.

“Wait, how is this about a golden dragon then?” Andromeda asked.

“A man had died during the fight,” Gunnar said. “A dragon happened to have seen the fight and thought the man worthy of saving.”

“You saw a Dragon Heart being made?!” Andromeda asked, jumping up in their bed and now giving him their full attention.

“Yes it was… gruesome and terrifying,” Gunnar shuddered. “The dragon used one of his talons and cut through the man’s chest and ribs to get at the heart, ripping it out and discarding it. It used its other talons to cut open its own chest and ripped out one of its hearts and just… dropped it in.”

Andromeda scrunched up their face, obviously displeased that the legendary Dragon Hearts were created in such a fashion. Asta was already half a sleep and dozing against his chest, probably just listening to the tremor of his voice at this point.

“The man opened his eyes a moment later and breathed again and the dragon just left. It had left a scale behind and I thought it a suitable memento of the epic battle,” Gunnar said.

“Wow. A man gets killed and turned into a Dragon Heart, but you lost an eye and a leg and all you got was a scale.”

“The battle didn’t kill me,” Gunnar pointed out.

“Still… you’re an amazing man, Gunnar,” Andromeda smiled, “I look forward to working with you.”

Gunnar just nodded before gently placing a finger against his lips. Asta was dead asleep against his chest, limp in slumber. Andromeda just smiled and nodded back, getting underneath the covers and wriggling to get comfortable in sleep. Gunnar slid a bit further into bed, holding Asta still against him to avoid waking her before pulling the covers up over his chest and over his daughter.

The scale moved with the movement and brushed against his chest. For a moment, he looked the scale over, the gold that never tarnished. The scales never did after death only when it was alive. Carefully he picked it up and looked it over, how the scale was warmed with his daughter’s hummingbird heart and warm against his fingers.

He hated lying to Asta.

* * *

When morning rose, Gunnar nearly bellowed in immediate panic.

Asta was gone.

Gunnar lurched out of bed, still in his shirt and trousers, and started frantically running around the building looking for his daughter. He must have looked a sight, hair and beard a mess and eye still hazy with sleep and running around like a beheaded chicken and muttering his daughter’s name because he was still panicked but did not want to wake anyone.

Finally he dashed upstairs and--

Haakon was carefully holding Asta in his lap as he sat on the ground, keeping a wolf close but nudging it back as it kept trying to groom his giggling daughter as she pet its snout. Breathing raggedly in relief, Gunnar carefully walked over to the two.

“-- name’s Gunther. Don’t tell your father. He’s just a few months old,” Haakon explained as he scratched through Gunther’s scruff.

Asta giggled as Gunther licked her face.

“Asta,” Gunnar breathed in relief.

“Papa!” Asta chimed, Haakon letting her go so that she could rush up to him.

“You gave me a fright,” Gunnar said, ducking down to scoop her up into his arms and hug her close. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry, that was my fault,” Haakon said, getting up and dusting himself off. “I was up and feeding the wolves and I think she heard me. She came running up here quick enough anyway.”

“I’m sorry papa,” Asta said softly.

“I’m not mad, just… you had me worried, Asta,” Gunnar sighed, kissing his daughter’s forehead. “You’re my treasure after all.”

“And that’s why my name is Asta!”

“Exactly,” Gunnar smiled.

“Well, I apologize for my part of your rudely awoken morning,” Haakon said.

“No need… I’m just…”

Haakon just nodded in silent understanding.

“Treasure, how about we get ready to go do that job today?” Gunnar suggested.

“Yeah!”

Carefully letting her go, Gunnar let Asta dash back downstairs. He called out for her to watch her footsteps.

“I don’t have a pup, before you ask,” Haakon said when Asta had vanished. “Just good with kids and been around enough parents. And I’ve always had strong parental instincts.”

“I can tell, you’re really good with Asta,” Gunnar grinned.

“Papa!” Asta scolded from the stairs.

“I’m coming, treasure!” Gunnar chuckled before nodding to Haakon. Haakon just smiled and waved him off, letting him walk over to the stairs to quickly snatch up his daughter and throw her over his shoulder, making her giggle.

“You’re a bossy little lady, you know that?” He smirked as he used one big hand to keep her slung over his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t flirt with boys when you have work!” Asta retorted.

“I was not!” Gunnar gaped.

“Were too!”

“You are fitting to be wolf dinner, little pup!”

* * *

The settlement was a slowly but surely growing farming settlement only a few miles from the city. Likely when they grew big enough, they would be absorbed into the city and broadened the city as well as provide farming within the city walls. For now, city guards patrolled the farming community amd kept them mostly safe. When Gunnar walked a bit down the road towards it from the city, he could easily see the animal yards where shaggy cows were munching on their morning meals and a few farmers getting ready for their day’s work. Looked like the city was not looking to expand so much.

According to the ticket, Gunnar was looking for the local blacksmith in the settlement. Said man was just stoking his forge fire when Gunnar happened on the small and obviously handmade forge tucked away to the side of closest to the forest that consumed the distance.

“Morning friend! Warrior’s guild calling,” Gunnar said as he approached.

The man, handsome but face pocketed with sparks from his forge, grunted before standing and addressing him.

“You’re new, so take no offense when I say ‘about fucking time’,” The man practically snarled.

“Been waiting long, friend?” Gunnar asked.

“Over two weeks for this to be done! Some bullshit about ‘waiting for the right warrior’.”

“Well let me get this done for you now,” Gunnar placated. “According to the job ticket, you need a witch in the nearby woods taken care of?”

“Aye. I reported that crazed wretch when I saw her sacrificing goats when I was out there trying to get loose lumber for the forge. Goats! Mages aren’t bad bastards, but when they’re sacrificing shit, they’re evil. No two shits. I paid that two bit guild for her head when she tried to fling a spell at my husband. But two weeks is a long time…”

“I’ll kill her. Witches are no problem for me. Do you want me to actually bring her head…”

“No. Husband will have a fit. But she was wearing a moonstone circlet when I saw her. Pretty damn distinctive. Bring me that to show me you did it and then keep it to sell or whatever. I just want this bitch dead before she can hurt someone.”

Gunnar just nodded before heading in the direction that he was pointed. Deep into the woods and against a witch.


	3. Hail to the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Language, mild blood, violence
> 
> Welcome another member of the main cast: Anton the Vampire King!

During his life, Gunnar had seen a great many things. Grisly and disturbing things, dark and eldritch things, all sorts of things without actually physically doing magic (he never had a talent and at his age probably never would). Things in and out of battle. Things that mankind had said and done to their fellow man. Violent and vicious and visceral and ferocious things.

But seeing this witch’s hut was something else.

The witch was not home and Gunnar had seen the home before her. Of course, he went in to look around because he may have been well into his thirty years, but common sense had never been a strong skill of his and the inside was… grisly at best. 

A rickety and blood stained and soaked table was the gritty remains of what looked like a goat was the first thing that Gunnar’s eyes settled on. But to be honest, the thing on the table but was so butchered it was hard to tell what it _had_ been. Maimed bones like someone had gotten haphazard with a knife trying to get them out from muscle and tendon, broken bones from someone that had gotten wild trying to get at the marrow inside. Even the skull was shattered into pieces, except for one mostly intact eye socket.

The bed was the next thing that Gunnar’s eyes found and it was… it was disgusting and stained with unknown dark patches and furs that was thoroughly matted with the stuff. Severa stained and rotten smelling robes and various clothing were mixed in with the furs.

Floors stained with blood and bits of fur and feathers, likely from the witch’s sacrifices. In a dark and grungy corner was a stained alchemy set sitting on a barrel that still reeked of bitter potions.

Disgusting. The home of someone that used this as just a base for their dark deeds and nothing more. Muttering to Asta to not look, Gunnar looked around for any signs that she had been home recently. 

The blood stained table was gummy at best, so chances were that she took what she needed from the goat(?) carcass and ran off. The fireplace was cold and the house was colder, so chances were that she had not been home long since waking for the day. She was not home. Grunting, Gunnar turned and walked out the door, stepping down her creaking steps and back out into the bitterly cold air--

Only to see the woman standing in the yard before her home and now looking at him with Under-Shade fire in her eyes. Her hands were stained with blood and the smell of electricity hung off of her as she undoubted built the magic up inside her to unleash with malicious intent.

Gunnar pulled his sword free and readied to fight.

* * *

Haakon returned from cleaning out a mine several miles away. 

He had not expected it to turn out as well as it had been and had expected to stay out in the wilds for the night. His wolf had been excited at the concept of being out in nature, away from humans and closer to the creatures of the wilds. To be free and wild. But the mines trouble with hitting a buried and forgotten tomb was easy to deal with surprisingly. The carcasses were ancient and easy to cleave through before putting back to rest and Haakon had traversed home in time for dinner.

Or at least dinner had been on his mind all until he hit the door and stepped inside. And the second he saw inside, he quickly forgot it.

Asta, looking rather calm, sat on a bench pulled away from one of the tables as a priest ran his glowing hands up and down her pink legs. Gunnar, having obviously been crying but until a moment ago, just paced and watched as the priest healed whatever ailed the poor girl’s legs. And Haakon, with his far too strong parental instincts that he chalked up to his wolf, quickly forgot everything and quickly walked over.

“What happened?”

“A slight burn, no worse than a mild sunburn,” The priest explained.

“Fucking witch,” Gunnar croaked, voice still rough from crying. “Set my cloak on fire and it got Asta before I could rip it off.”

“I’m okay, papa,” Asta said.

“No, Asta… you don’t understand--”

“Then explain it!” Asta huffed.

“You could have… you could have been seriously hurt,” Gunnar relented.

“Wasn’t.”

“But you could have been and that’s what I’m stuck on.”

“The get unstuck.”

“It’s not that simple, treasure. What if something worse happens next time? What if someone stabs me through and through and gets you? What is someone stabs me from behind and gets you? What if someone sets me on fire again and I can’t put it out in time?”

“Sounds like you need a safe places for your pup to be while you’re out getting stabbed and such,” Haakon said, piping in. “We do have a building full of battle trained war wolves…”

“I can’t!”

"You can't what, exactly?" Haakon asked, "You don't want to take your daughter out there where she can be harmed, but you also don't... what? You don't want her to leave your sight?"

"It's... hard to explain."

"Use small words," Asta sassed.

"I... I can't just leave her behind. I haven't left her behind for six years now. To suddenly stop..."

"Well, Gunnar. It's either leave her here where she'll be safe or put her in harm's way," Haakon explained. "Remember, we have your skill set for dangerous jobs. This witch hunting job was one of the easier ones we have set up for you. Under-Shade, we have you set to take out a necromancer camp miles and miles further north in the coming weeks. A necromancer camp."

Haakon had never seen a man truly pale with terror. But when Gunnar did so, he looked truly haunting and almost sickly like. A brief moment of something sickly in on itself and rather sharp stabbed into Haakon's belly about being well... to be rather frank, being rather bastard like to the man that was clearly upset and emotional. But... it also felt right in its own right. Gunnar said that he needed to make a home for Asta and himself and he could not do that if he was dragging his daughter everywhere out of fear.

"It's not like she'd be alone. We have at least a few wolves here at all times. And there are usually members of the guild here at all times. And there are a few kindly people that work here during the day, cleaning and cooking and such. So she would be in good hands," Haakon said, trying to sooth the man now.

Gunnar breathed raggedly. For some reason, he looked older than his years and he almost seemed ancient in a strange sort of way. With the reddish bruising around his good eye, his blue eye seemed off color as well, almost like there was a greyish and goldish tone there that was only now visible. Haakon idly wondered if Gunnar was one of those people whose eye color changed based on raging emotions.

"I'll be okay papa," Asta said.

"I don't..."

"But you have too," Asta said. "I'll be too big to be on your back soon."

"You'd never be too big for papa to carry you, treasure," Gunnar tiredly smiled.

"Not the point, papa.”

"No... no... papa gets it..." Gunnar swallowed visibly, the bob of his throat bouncing with the force of it. "The next time I go out... you'll stay here."

* * *

Haakon felt terrible for his harsh words. While it seemed that Gunnar needed to hear them, a harsh truth could still be soothed over later and not be left to feel raw and scalded on the skin like a vicious skin tear or a bad burn. When Asta parted from her father to watch one of the caretakers feed the wolves their supper, Haakon approached the man watching from a distance, leaned against a pole and his thick arms crossed over his just as thick chest.

Gunnar still looked strained, some reddish irritation still lingering around his good eye and nose and it made the feelings of guilt feel slimy and thorny in Haakon's guts. For a man to be driven to tears... for anyone to be driven to tears really...

"Gunnar," Haakon said as he stood by the man's side.

"Haakon," Gunnar grunted out, voice rough around the edges.

"I... apologize from my harsh words earlier. As much as Steel likes to say that I'm a silver tongued demon, that's more when I have a second or two to ponder what I'm going to say and--"

"Haakon," Gunnar said firmly.

"... I'm sorry."

"No need... I've been fighting against this day as long as I could," Gunnar sighed deeply, sounding like he was letting out years of tension in a might heave of lungs. "I know the day would have to come when Asta could not travel with me, wither she got too large for me to carry into battle or the danger would be too great for her. She's a scrappy little thing and can look out for herself but... today..."

"That must have been horrifying."

"It was. I… I-I was fighting that witch just fine, a-and then she got behind me and threw a spell at me before I could turn and... sh-she meant to just catch my cloak on fire and distract me. I didn't even think of Asta until she yelped and then I forgot everything else. Even the witch was surprised. The look on her face when I pulled the burning cloak off and then Asta out of her burning sling..."

"Did you complete the job?" Haakon asked. "I understand if you prioritized your daughter and got her help--"

"I threw my sword and impaled her to her house," Gunnar growled out.

"... Oh you left her there, I see."

"I had to get Asta help."

"Of course."

They lapsed into silence for a moment, watched the caretaker hand out the bowls with slabs of meat in them to the wolves with Asta trailing on his heels and watching with awe. Perhaps someone could be convinced to take Asta on as a apprentice and give the lass something to do during the day. It would certainly keep her entertained while her father was away.

"You must think me a mess," Gunnar groaned, rubbing his face tiredly.

"No."

Asta padded up to the caretaker and asked him something. After a moment of back and forth, she was handed the smaller bowls for the pups and carefully walked over to where the eager pups were bouncing for their meals in their pens. The sudden tensing in Gunnar's frame did not go unnoticed but it went unremarked upon. Especially when the man relaxed as Asta seemed to know how to keep the pups from knocking her over, by freeing a hand and putting it on a too close nose or putting her foot out on a pup's chest and pushing it enough that it got the hint without being too mean or forceful. Perhaps she had a skill for handling the wolves and would be suited for learning the trade.

"I think you’re a tired father that knows nothing else and to do anything else is leaving you floundering."

Asta handed out all the bowls and padded back to the caretaker to tell him. Based on how she seemed to absolutely light up, the caretaker had highly praised her work.

"...Perhaps. I've been... mostly single handedly taking care of her since birth. I had help right after she was born but that was barely a year's worth and that was mostly while I learned how to walk with a fake leg and use one eye..."

"Me thinks it's time for a break and for Asta and her papa to learn otherwise," Haakon snarked softly.

"Me thinks you’re an asshole," Gunnar retorted but then grinned. "But... thank you, Haakon."

"Anytime."

Asta bounced up to Gunnar to excitedly tell her father about feeding the pups. Haakon just smiled as the man picked her up and listened with a warm smile on his face.

* * *

Gunnar did not have a job for the next three days. Or at least nothing 'large contract' wise. He did smaller jobs around the city, as it seemed to never lack of need of help in one way or another. Wither someone needed some help with muscle or needed one of the city's ancient and large basements cleared out of pests or they needed someone big and muscular to stand behind them and glare as they talked big talk without bite to back it up.

During those three days, Gunnar started to... wean himself into not being around Asta all the time.

It was nerve wracking at first. Almost terrifying. Gunnar came running back to the guild between jobs just to make sure she was fine only to find her busy either helping the caretakers of the buildings of being happily smothered by wolves. Bitterly, Gunnar thought that perhaps Asta was not as much of a wreck as he was about this but also chalked it up to a child getting a small fraction of freedom and not being in the same place as Gunnar was mentally and emotionally. Still, she usually jumped up to greet and hug him, asking him how things went and such, eagerly listening as she was not there to have seen the details up close.

On the fourth day, Gunnar was handed a contract for a vampire.

"This is a... unusual contract," Sigmund explained to him. "The town that is calling for our aid is not looking for a kill but will understand if you're given no choice. Mostly they want you to check out a cave where a vampire might be. Apparently the town has known that a vampire buried itself there hundreds of years ago, apparently moved a giant ass boulder in the way so that no one has been able to move."

"Wait, a vampire buried itself? It wasn't... trapped intentionally?" Gunnar asked.

"Apparently, it was not made by its own choice and was disgusted with what it had become, but could not kill itself out of religious duty--"

"Wilds Elf," Gunnar quickly filled in.

"Correct. So instead of that, it trapped itself in that cave to protect everyone around it. Anyway, the boulder was recently moved by a team of cave divers looking for treasure. They disappeared and there was some screaming before they went. They want you to go see if they're dead and if you can, replace the stone or see if the vampire is willing to come out."

"Strange that they don't just want this creature to die."

"This town has been known to be soft on gentler otherworldly creatures, especially if they're willing to cohabitant." Sigmund shrugged. "Regardless. They're paying us to do this and I know you can take down an ancient vampire since you took down that witch so quickly. So pack for a four day round trip."

"Right..."

Gunnar needed to tell Asta about his leaving for four days... something that he was not looking forward to saying. Mostly because he knew that if her reaction was too cold his heart was broken but if she begged him to stay that he would without a fight. Neither of which were good outcomes.

So he found her outside, sitting on a fence as she watched a unfamiliar Orc shoot targets with what Gunnar could only describe as a huge fucking bow that just made his shoulders ache thinking about pulling the string back on.

"Asta, treasure," Gunnar asked.

"Papa, this is Huntress!" Asta grinned at him.

Huntress put an arrow through a target and it took Gunnar a moment to realize that she was putting arrow straight through foot thick targets made of hay and wood.

"That's... Very nice to meet you."

"Hi."

"Asta, I need to talk to you."

"Okay!"

She jumped down and then put her arms up to be picked up, to which Gunnar did without hesitation, taking her inside with him and setting the both of them down in a chair.

"Papa got a job outside the city."

Asta visibly deflated.

"You're leaving."

"For four days. Papa has to go maybe fight a vampire."

Asta huffed, pouting as she picked at his shirt absentmindedly. Well... she did not seem tragically broken up by it but still looked quite sad about it. Gunnar stroked her hair softly, watching her face. It was time and it… hurt but it had come.

"Will you be okay without papa?" Gunnar asked.

"..." Asta shrugged sullenly.

"I'll be back in four days," Gunnar said soothingly, hugging Asta closer. "And I get to tell you about a vampire. You've always wanted to meet one."

Asta huffed again, cheeks puffing with her pout.

"Asta, please... talk to me treasure."

"You'll be gone."

"I know. But remember what we got told? You'll have the people here and you'll still be in a room with Andromeda. You like them. And... Papa doesn't want to leave you either, you know that treasure. I would rather take you with me but... I don't want you to get hurt again and a vampire, especially an old one... even papa could get hurt."

"I know."

"... Are we going to be okay?"

"Yeah... you'll tell me about them?"

"Yep. Papa is supposed to try and avoid killing them anyway, so I'll talk them up just for you, treasure. Want to ask me to ask them anything in particular?”

* * *

The village that housed the vampire was much further south of Lupas Lacum and in a noticeably warmer region. Gunnar noted it as he walked across the lands, crossing from snow dusted land into more greener lands and less winter trees. Less snow and while it was nowhere near as hot as Wild Elves' land, it felt less bitingly cold. 

It made Gunnar think of how it was technically summer for the cold lands. Both himself and Asta would need winter clothing before too long. She definitely would need something warmer for her tiny self, especially since this was their first time in such bitterly cold tempratures. After this job was done, Gunnar promised to buy them some warmer clothes and shoes, and they both needed winter cloaks. Hopefully that was not too expensive.

It was while Gunnar was thinking about prices of fur, that he realized that he was alone. 

His hand went to where Asta was supposed to be and found only the expanse of his own back. Her weight had never been anything to him so he did not really notice the lack of it there. But... he missed his daughter. They had been traveling together since her birth. Even when Gunnar had returned home for a year to recover from his injuries and learn how to take care of Asta from his mother, they had been together every day since she had come into the world. And now... He knew the day had to come but gods be damned did it hurt worse than losing his eye and leg.

Oh well... she was much safer at the Warriors' Guild then with him, especially if he was going to be facing a possibly blood starved ancient vampire. Hopefully though, said vampire was rational and could be talked down. Gunnar had fought vampires before Asta was born and that had been a lot of dodging super human skills and their hypnotic and mind bending powers. He had even been bit once before, many years ago. Spent a night getting prayed over and magically cleansed by a priest to strip the virus from his veins before it could take hold. Being the undead was not at all tempting for him, immortality be damned.

... He really hoped that this creature was rational. Asta had several questions that she wanted answers too and Gunnar hated disappointing his treasure.

Head held up high, Gunnar made his way.

* * *

The village was a tucked between a few ridges, protected naturally on almost all sides by stone but had two ways into the village by two gaps in the ridges. Perfectly crafted almost. When he arrived, he found a larger, single floored building and was grateful to find the Jarl's hall and home in it. The Jarl, having to identify himself because he was dressed as a Jarl should have and in simple and modest clothes that were worn and stained with farmer's work, told him what Sigmund told him. He explained that they had learned a bit since calling for aid, including that the vampire was almost a millennia old based on how it talked, and knowing that, they had found out that its named was Anton.

"He seems quite harmless," The Jarl said. "Also quite starved, almost looks like a skeleton covered in skin. It's hard to tell what he looks like because of how withered he is."

"He might be feral," Gunnar warned.

"We have a solution to that!" The Jarl beckoned to two men and they dragged a barrel forward that its contents sloshed against the insides. "Elk blood, before you ask. We figured that vampires can feed off any blood. He might be revitalized by it enough to be comprehensible to speak? If not... well we would rather not anyone get hurt by him..."

"I will make it quick and clean if he gives me no choice."

"Thank you, warrior."

There was not much that could be done to protect against such an old vampire. It would have outgrown any weaknesses that the younger vampires faced. A priestess offered him a few words and wished for his safety. Someone offered a silver choker, but it was pointed out that it would be too old for that to work. Someone offered garlic but it was pointed out that was only good for mosquitos. In the end, Gunnar went with only his armor and sword to where the vampire was, just past the break in stone walls around the village.

It took a bit of hunting, almost a thousand years had passed and generations of trees and plants had covered the place. It took finding the bright green edges of the severed vines covering the boulder for him to see it. And even then he had to shuffle through some vines and trees and other plantlike to get through and find the small cave opening. 

And low and behold, there was a bloodied treasure hunter sitting in the mouth of the cave. Bloodied but breathing at least. Gunnar summoned what thin magical talent he had in himself and used it in a very simple healing spell that closed some of the shallow lacerations on the man’s skin.

“Shit, fucking shit… fucking vampire,” The man grunted when he was bleeding a little less.

“It attacked you?” Gunnar asked.

“Yeah, spouting some elf bullshit… couldn’t understand a word…”

“The Language of the Trees, maybe? That’s their language. Huh… what’s a native speaker doing in human lands…” Gunar hummed before standing. “Who all is in your team?”

“Sapphire… Orcess… Julian… southern gentlemen…”

“Alright. I’ll look for them. Stay out here, do not try and come in after me. Don’t want you becoming a snack for the vampire, especially if you pissed him off.”

The cave was not lit or set up for treasure hunting with equipment set up and debris cleared, meaning that Anton reacted quickly to people opening his self imposed tomb. But Gunnar had to walk a few feet inside before he found the ‘southern gentleman’ half draped over a odd rock. But he was alive and just had a nasty bump on his head from being tossed and hitting the wall hard. After some shaking and a brief flashing of healing magic, stumbled out to meet his friend. Sapphire was not too farther in, just around a bend that lead further into the stone. She had a few cuts from what looked like sharp talons, but thankfully being an Orc, she had naturally thick and protective skin. She could walk out once she realized that she did not need to freeze out of terror of the vampire finding her again.

Anton was at the back of the cave.

Leather like skin was stretched tight over his skeleton. Sunken in black pits where the creature’s eyes were showed no sign of if he noticed Gunnar was there. Despite the near death like state the creature was in, with how the skin was grotesquely pulled back from dryness over his teeth and away from his nails, Gunnar easily saw the red tipped fangs and red stained talons that the creature could still use with some success.

Gunnar set the barrel that he had been carrying down on the ground, yanking the top off and backing away. The heavy stench of blood quickly filled the dusty and musty cave. Despite that it took several moments for the vampire to react, lifting its skeletal head and turning it towards the barrel. The dry creaking of the creature’s dried out body moving towards the barrel was… absolutely fucking haunting, but it was not lurching towards Gunnar so that was good.

The creature was too famished and weak to do much but crawl over and get itself up enough to just dunk its head into the blood. Gunnar watched as it just drank and took the blood into its body. After several moments of just sucking substance into his body, Gunnar saw the creature’s skin start to slowly fill out. Like watched an empty waterskin fill back up slowly… sort of. It was certainly a great deal more disturbing and Gunnar was suddenly very grateful that he had not brought Asta to see this. The leather like skin revitalizing and becoming the naturally dark skin of the Wilds Elves, rehydrating and revealing the ancient and traditional tattoos of the elf’s homeland.

About when the vampire had drained half the barrel did he pull his head free to drag in a ragged breath. Then Gunnar could see the man’s face, stained with blood. The features of a Wild Elf absolutely. No doubt about it.

“Ah… hello friend?” Gunnar tried.

The elf cocked an eyebrow at him. Oh right, probably did not speak or understand a lick of any human language.

“ _Can you understand me now?_ ” Gunnar tried in the Wild’s tongue.

“... _Your dialect is strange,_ ” Anton rasped out. Three sets of eye teeth. That was a bad sign if he chose to be violent.

“ _Yours is outdated by almost a milenna,_ ” Gunnar sassed back.

“ _...Fair. What brings a human like yourself to this tomb?_ ”

“ _I was contracted to deal with you, nonviolently. Wither that be putting the boulder back or encouraging you to peacefully leave the cave… Also ask you a few questions for someone else if you’re willing._ ”

Anton licked at his bloody mouth before dunking his head back into the barrel. Gunnar waited patiently for the creature to take his fill before pulling his head back out. When he did, Gunnar saw the creature’s eyes clearly, refreshed and revitalized. Sun burst. Yellows fading into oranges into reds and thenslit black pupils. The eyes of a vampire. The last vision of the sun burned into the eyes if the legends were to be believed but Gunnar always thought it more like the bright colors on poisonous animals.

_Stay away. I’m dangerous._

“ _You said that my dialect was outdated by almost a milenna. Do you know the name, the Red Corpse King?_ ”

“ _No?_ ”

“... _I shall leave this cave, peacefully._ ”

“ _What do you plan to do?_ ”

“ _Well if I’m outdated by almost a mileena, probably walk around. Learn what changed and all that,_ ” Anton said with a shrug. Gunnar thought it was terrifying that Anton was catching how to how he spoke and changing his language so fluidly and easily it seemed as easy as breathing. “ _Answer your questions if you let me walk with you a bit._ ”

“... _Well first things first.You’re not leaving this cave without proper clothes that aren’t falling apart and revealing private bits, mister._ ”

* * *

“...Gunnar… who’s your friend?”

“Uh… Sigmund this is… Anton…” Gunnar replied weakly as Anton looked around the Warrior’s Guild without leaving Gunnar’s side. “Anton was wondering if he could join the Warrior’s Guild?”

“...Gunnar… is that the vampire?”

“Maaaaayyyyybeeee?”

Sigmund sighed heavily as Gunnar rubbed at his head guiltily. He had not expected the ‘let me walk with you to answer your questions’ to turn into ‘yeah I’m just wondering around close to you because you’re convenient’. Now the vampire, properly dressed and even having gotten leather armor from a few bandits that tried to jump them on the way back, stared bored like around as though it was not unusual for a creature that was well over a milenna to just be… out and about.

“Papa!”

Asta scurried up the steps, almost tripping on the second to last one, and dashed over to Gunnar who instinctively picked her up and held her.

“My treasure, did you miss me?”

“Yeah! Did you meet the vampire?!”

“Uh well… yes, say hi to Anton the vampire, my treasure,” Gunnar said, turning slightly towards Anton. Anton, upon hearing his name even garbled by the human tongue, turned to look at Asta as she just looked… completely awestruck at him. Despite all their adventures together, Asta had never encountered a vampire.

“His eyes are so pretty, papa!”

“ _What did the child say?_ ” Anton asked.

“ _That your eyes are pretty._ ”

“Wait… you speak his tongue?” Sigmund asked.

“Yes, I speak several languages. Always had a gift for it, I guess. Wilds, Orcish, Sea language though that one is rather rough on the throat. I can also sort of speak Draconic, Galaxies and--”

Sigmund walked away, replaced by Haakon that was giving his master a weird look to match.

“What’s his problem?” Haakon asked.

“I’m going to get kicked out of the guild, I can just feel it.”

“... Who is this?”

“Anton, he’s the vampire from that job I got sent on. He wants to join.”

“Ah well… if he’s willing… I could test him. Technically unless Sigmund out right says no, I can initiate people and accept them into the guild.”

“ _This man is going to test you._ ”

“ _Alright,_ ” Anton said bored like, following Haakon out into the training yard when the man beckoned.

“Papa! What did he say?” Asta asked.

“... Oh, right! You’re questions. Let’s go out and watch and I’ll tell you.”

* * *

Anton was almost two thousand years old.

Anton was not his real name and he was not sure where the name Anton came from, but it suited him just fine. His other names had not been uttered in over a thousand years and he did not recall them after being trapped in a cave for so long.

Anton had been in that cave for over one thousand years.

Anton had six sets of fangs, including upper and lower.

Anton’s hair was naturally crimson because of how advanced the vampirism virus was.

Anton could not consume humanoid blood, lest he go into a feeding frenzy. Again.

Gunnar watched Anton very easily put Haakon on his ass, unarmed, overcoming Haakon’s shield and sword through sheer agility and strength. All while looking bored like. Vampires got more and more powerful with age because of the virus that made them, how adaptive it was. If it was given time to adapt it would adapt and evolve and grow stronger and make its host stronger. Two thousand years as a vampire would make Anton extremely powerful, as evident by how he seemed to blink out and then into existence when he moved with any sort of speed.

“Between you and Gunnar, I fear for my health!” Haakon yelled as he stood.

“ _What did you do?_ ” Anton asked him from across the yard.

“ _Put a blunted sword through a shield,_ ” Gunnar called back.

“...Interesting…”

“Papa?”

“Nothing treasure.”

“No papa, did miss me?”

“Of course treasure, every second,” Gunnar smiled, kissing his daughter’s hair. Asta smiled back at him, making his heart melt. Safe. She was safe and in his arms again. Words could not describe it, the warm feelings flooding Gunnar’s chest and head at the thought.

Even if it was likely, just for the moment.

* * *

Gunnar took Asta out to get winter clothing when he got paid for the vampire job. It was a nice chunk of money and had more than enough elbow room for them to get what they needed. Gunnar also needed his armor repaired and his sword sharpened, which could also be covered by the job pay. It felt good to have cushion money like they had now, Gunnar promised to put side most of it to start saving for that house. But first his armor so that he could keep making more money.

When they came to Wuf’s workshop, the large blacksmith greeted them with a smile.

“Gunnar! Nice to see you again, lad. Thought I scared you off with my nonsense the last time.”

“Ah… it was nothing. Could I pay you to fix a few dings and such in my armor and sharpen my sword?” Gunnar asked, handing over the armor and then unsheathing the sword and propping it up against the forge.

Wuf looked over the armor critically, humming as he thought. When he was done with that, he moved over to the sword and let out a low whistle. Maybe the sword was going to cost Gunnar a good amount of coin…

“I won’t charge for the armor. Minor repairs I do for free for the guild. I will have to charge almost double for the sword though simply because of… size.”

“Fair,” Gunnar groaned.

Gunnar mournfully handed over the coin and left the man to his work.

The clothing were easier to get. Asta’s winter attire did not cost much because she was a scrawny and tiny thing. Gunnar’s costed more because he was a large man. But it was a necessary expenditure. Could not have either of them getting hurt in the cold fo this new land. Not to mention Asta looked absolutely adorable in her thicker and longer dress and fur boots.

“Does this mean we’ll stay long?” Asta asked as they walked back to the guild. She was hopping along, holding onto his hand to keep up, little hand clutching two of his fingers.

“Yep! Papa is gonna buy us a house and give you a home,” Gunnar smiled at her.

“I like the wolf people, papa.”

“I like them too. I think they’ll be like family soon enough and they’re gonna help me buy that house for you… why call the wolf people?”

Asta shrugged and Gunnar wondered how his sweet treasure thought sometimes.


	4. Oh brother, My Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Language, gore and violence, mentions of body dysphoria
> 
> We learn of one of the antagonists, a man that hits a little too close to home

Gunnar and Asta started something of a routine around the Warrior’s Guild.

Gunnar went out and did jobs, in the city, just outside and far outside the city. He would come back to Asta clamoring to hear every detail of his adventures. The jobs were always a little different each time and Asta ate up each and every word of his recountings when he came back to her. Everything from Gunnar putting his muscles too good use to clearing out camps of Necromancers, wild beasts and even killing a very, very pissed off Giant once.

Sometimes Gunnar went out on jobs with others. Even with Gunnar’s skill and prowess, sometimes the people that hired them were paranoid about the real challenge of their quests and handed out the coin to hire another. If Gunnar was being sent, then chances were that he was sent with some of the veterans of the guild, like the brothers, Andromeda, Steel and even Anton since his vampirism made him so powerful. It was all and good fun to travel with some of these people and face tough opponents with them. Though admittedly Anton had him flexing his Wilds tongue a bit to keep up conversation.

When Gunnar was home, he often remained with Asta, never straying too far from her. Even if they were getting used to having time apart, the two were most used to being close and it was hard to break embedded habits like that. If they strayed, it was often Asta learning how to take care of the wolves or her trailing with stars in her eyes after Huntress. All fine with Gunnar, even if at first there was a small pange in his chest.

When Gunnar was gone, Asta learned how to take care of the war wolves and listened to the stories of the warriors of the guild. They had had no one new to listen to their tales in some time, membership having gone a bit stale in the past few years, and were ever eager to recount glorious battles and fights and even wars with the young girl. Though they sometimes playfully glowered when she spoke up and said that her father had done the same thing or done the same thing only truly more epic.

It was hard for Gunnar at first, trying to adjust to his normal routine since Asta had been born, of keeping her with him at all times. Even if he knew the day was coming when Asta could not always be with him,he had always pushed that to the back of his mind in favor of living another day, of providing for Asta for another day, of keeping his treasure close for another day. It helped immensely that Asta seemed truly okay with being with the warriors all day when he was away. And Asta and himself were on good speaking terms that he knew that she would tell him if something was off. So he could only temper any anxiety he had and hope for the best.

Nothing of note really happened for a few weeks.

* * *

“Gunnar, got another job for you!” Sigmund called as he came out to the training yard.

“Aye?” Gunnar called back.

He had been doing push-ups, as it was instrumental that he keep up his health in his growing years, with Asta sitting on his back as extra weight. He kept at it as Sigmund came over and dropped to his arse on the ground with a relieved sigh. The tired old guildmaster was always on his feet and it was common place for the man to just drop if there was an excuse to get off his old joints.

“You know those monster hunters you pointed out a while ago?”

“Yeah. They turn out to be zealots?” Gunnar grunted.

“Very much so. They took up an abandoned tower in the forests to the east and they had seemed to be doing good work for awhile. But someone heard screaming from the tower and went to investigate and low and behold, they’re capturing creatures and torturing them. Hunting down rabid werewolves and feral vampires is one thing, but actively torturing them? That’s sick. So you’re going to go kill them.”

“Alright.”

“Now, normally I’d send you on your own since it’s just a bunch of crazy monster hunters with silver weaponry. But there are… a lot. According to sources it might be almost fifty of them hold up in that tower and as much as I trust your abilities, I don’t want to risk it,” Sigmund said before jerking his head to the far side of the training yard where the twins were squaring off. “So you’re pick of the brothers for backup.”

“Ha! Do you even need to ask?”

“Hey, sometimes you want to travel with Amund over Haakon,” Sigmund laughed. “But I figured. I’ll tell Haakon to get ready. The person that hired us wants this done quick so you’re setting out today. It’ll be a three day venture if all goes well, so pack for five if you’re worried.”

“Alright.”

Asta jumped off so that he could stand, skipping after him as he went to throw on a shirt real quick and then get his armor on. Dressed for adventure, he grabbed his bag and added his bedroll, travel coin and anything else he needed to carry for the trip and fight before walking up to the stairs and then the front doors. Haakon caught up with him before he got there.

“Take good care of my papa!” Asta told Haakon sternly, little hands on her hips and staring down the much larger man.

“Of course, pup,” Haakon smiled, ruffling her hair fondly and making her giggle.

“Well, let’s go kill some monster hunters,” Gunnar said after giving Asta a hug goodbye and walking out the doors.

“Does that make us monster hunters too?” Haakon snorted.

“Ha! Probably.”

“You ever square off against monster hunters before?” Haakon asked as they walked.

“A few times. Usually bumping into the crazy ones and having to put them down to save some of their victims. A few have tried to hunt me before for some reason. Apparently above average strength makes me something not human.”

“Can you blame them?”

“I can and will. It’s not nice to scream ‘monster!’ at a man and try and kill him!”

Haakon laughed and Gunnar grinned.

Gunnar liked Haakon, he really did. The other man was witty, dryly sarcastic, had an endearing sense of pride about him and was just overall enjoyable to be around, even with a few rough edges. A quick draw temper and a need to validate his actions in the face of the slightest opposition or questioning was far too easy to figure out how to work with. It did not help that Gunnar seemed to naturally get along with temperamental people.

“Not too disappointed that I picked you over your brother?” Gunnar teased.

“Nah, Amund can go home to his wife and pups when he doesn’t have work,” Haakon shrugged.

“Holy shit, he’s married with kids?”

“Yeah? He’s been married for… goodness, my oldest nephew is ten years old! So about a eleven years now?”

“That’s… surprisingly nice. I don’t know a lot of warriors that can balance the lifestyle and married life.”

“Yeah.”

“You married?”

“No, haven’t found the right man for me yet. How about you?”

“No. Honestly, Asta was a surprise. Before her I was… well Hakkon, I was a right selfish asshole if I have to be honest. I was close to hitting thirty and blind to my age and still living as though I was just about to hit twenty instead. There was… a man. He wanted to settle down with me but he was going big places and I just wanted to have fun…”

“Do you regret it?”

“As much as it makes me wistful to think about it? No. He was, and probably still is, a good man with a pure heart and a burning ambition to do what he sets his mind too. I was a reckless and selfish dumbass that just wanted to adventure. It was fun but it wasn’t going to last with how I was then. We weren’t right for each other and left each other on good terms.”

“Well, just based on what you’ve said, you sound like you've matured greatly since then!”

“Ha! I guess I have,” Gunnar grinned before slinging an arm around Haakon’s shoulders and yanking the man towards him. Haakon stumbled and then took it into stride, grin matching Gunnar’s. “Now before I get mature enough to realize that being a warrior at this age is dumb as fuck and especially so with a kid of my own, let’s go kill some crazed monster hunters!”

“Under-Shade yes! The Battle Maiden be praised!”

* * *

The ‘tower’ was a grossly incorrect description of what they were attacking. It was more like a smaller castle that was mostly one very large section that looked like a larger stone tower but definitely had several smaller structures attached to it. It was very much a smaller castle and maybe that was why it comfortably housed over fifty monster hunters for the moment, but not long.

“So… how do you want to do this?” Gunnar asked.

They were a bit away hiding in the brush a bit away, letting the foliage and the coming evening darkness shroud them. As far as they could see, there were only a few sentries keeping watch, armed with bows or dressed as obvious mages. Not the most insane odds Gunnar had been against but also not ones that he was looking forward to facing. Especially monster hunters. Even with a capable warrior like Haakon with him.

“Let’s try and ease our way in until we can get into a favorable position and then attack.”

“Alright.”

Getting into the courtyard was easy after they watched the lookouts for a moment to get a hang of their movements. It looked like a lot were spacing out and moving without thought. They snuck without too much trouble, though Gunnar had to grab a sleeping guard by the door and break his neck when they needed into the tower. When he was dead, he was propped up against his post with his head tilted to make his broken neck look less noticeable.

Inside… was bad.

There was a woman screaming and a man sobbing from deep within the tower. Gunnar sucked in a deep breath and looked to Haakon, who was clearly shaken too. It was something of a comfort to know that a just as seasoned warrior was just as seasoned as him was just as shaken by this. But they were here to stop this. They could save the ones still alive. Gunnar’s chest started throbbing painfully and it took a few tries to swallow fully and remember how to breath, hand coming up to his chest to steady himself. Fucking gods…

The first few guards were easy to dispatch. With evening approaching it was easy to see which ones were nodding off from a long day or bored out of their skulls and had no focus. Haakon snapped a few necks with a blunt strike with the edge of his shield and Gunnar used his hands, since his sword left huge gory messes. Their bodies were dragged away, out of sight out of mind and not suspicious enough to blow the alarms just yet. They had yet to find a good spot to make their last stand just yet, so quiet and steady until then.

“Something’s bothering you,” Haakon muttered after they had dispatched another two guards.

“It’s… it’s monster hunters. Usually they have a very loud and very egotistical leader that needs to make up for a inflamed inferiority complex… it’s too gods damned quiet,” Gunnar muttered back.

“Very true… strange.”

“Quiet monster hunter leader? That means trouble. And I mean trouble that I will be running away from. I have a daughter to get back too.”

Their moment to make their stand came from when they found a room of five monster hunters. Gunnar finally unsheathed his sword and strolled in the the group laughed over dinner. He smiled as he stood there… and then stabbed one monster hunter straight through. Haakon rushed in right after, charging in with his shield and slamming his full weight, armor and all, and knocking a fully armored hunter off their ass and onto the ground. Unable to coordinate, Haakon stabbed them through their left eye.

“What the fuck?!”

The last three were easy to take down. They were armed with good weapons and sheathed in good armor, but it was painfully obvious that these guys were green horns at best and did not stand a chance against two experienced warriors. Even when the alarms were finally set off, Gunnar and Haakon easily stood their ground and made the room a slaughterhouse.

“Something’s wrong,” Gunnar said as they fought.

“What?” Haakon said as he used his shield to fend off a flurry of blows from someone wielding two thief daggers.

“This many greenhorns. Monster hunters don’t take on this many. These are just--!”

Someone came at him with a sword… and a blue magic stain on his face. Someone hit with an enchanted item really fucking hard, enough to scar and catch skin. Something in the shape of a palm print.

“Son of a bitch,” Gunnar groaned.

Gunnar grabbed the man and threw him at a table and broke it, leaving him stunned and caught in the wreckage of the table so Gunnar and Haakon could finish off the rest of the monster hunters. 

His sword was beyond blunted by the time the bodies stopped piling up and based on how Haakon dragged his thumb across the edge of his own sword, his was too. Thankfully the weight of Gunnar’s blade was still a very lethal possibility in killing someone. Or pinning them, as Gunnar proved when he dropped his sword flat side down first on the still struggling monster hunter. The air left their lungs in a harsh burst and they looked pleadingly up at Gunnar as he stood above the man.

“Where’s your boss?” Gunnar demanded.

“I don’t--”

Gunnar stepped on the blade and further crushed the man, forcing more air out of the man who still writhed and fought underneath the weight of the great blade and now the fully armored and large man on top of him.

“Where.”

“I don’t--”

“He’s a thirty something year old man with black hair and blue eyes. He’s a silver tongued devil and he can charm a dying man out of his last morsel. He’s missing an arm and in its stead he has a metal prosthetic that’s so goddamn enchanted that its bleeding magic. That mark is from him slapping you as hard as he could, right?”

The pathetic wiggling stopped, replaced by pale fear.

“How… did you?”

“WHERE IS EINAR?!” Gunnar roared at the top of his lungs.

“I DON’T KNOW! I DON’T KNOW!”

Grunting disdainfully, Gunnar lifted his boot and then reluctantly picked his sword up. The terrified monster hunter rose to his feet, eyeing him, Haakon and the door.

“Oh you can run. That magic poisoning is gonna kill you in about a year if you don’t get it stripped from you skin,” Gunnar shrugged nonchalantly.

Now snow white in terror, the man booked it from the room, Haakon watching the man go before turning to him with an expression that clearly showed what he was thinking. It made Gunnar groan.

“Einar… is my brother. Also a murdering psychopath who will do anything for my sword.”

“I thought you said that your sword is just big and heavy.”

“Einar is convinced that it's more and no matter how I try and persuade him, won’t listen to me. I thought I got rid of him two years ago, when I got him arrested in Orc lands. Guess he’s resurfaced like black mold.”

“Should we be concerned?”

“Yes.”

The victims of the monster hunters were easy to get out of there. Most of them had regeneration to fix physical damage when they were freed from poisoned chains, cages and such. Psychological they would have to do on their own with their own terms. And there were three that… had to be put out of their misery because there was simply no way saving them regardless of what was done.

Gunnar carried a pup for a limping werewolf mother Haakon was helping along as she waited for her system to cleanse the poison from her body.

“Monster hunter used to be an honored profession. Now its a synonym for a sadist that will abuse someone that they think they can get away with abusing,” Haakon grumbled.

“Hmm,” Gunnar hummed absentmindedly, shuffling the pup in his arm higher so it could snuggle its cold and tear stained face against his neck to warm itself.

“So what’s gonna when we face your brother?” Haakon asked.

“He’s my brother, so I want to give him a chance. He blows it? I’m going to take his head this time.”

Haakon did not say anything after that and Gunnar was lost in thought. Part way into their walk home, the werewolf mother’s bones finally cracked and reset, the poison gone.

“Thank you kindly, lads. I will never forget your kindness.”

“No need,” Gunnar said, carefully easing the pup from his shoulder into hers. “Can you make it home?”

“Aye. I haven’t been gone too long so the wife should still be looking for me and the pup. Gods I can’t wait to get back to her and it’s thanks to you that I can. Gods bless you, lads.”

They watched her start running off into the forest, clutching her pup to her chest tightly.

“To kill your brother…”

“Only if he gives me no choice. But yes. He threatens my life and thus Asta’s and no creature will ever be allowed to walk away from that. No one is allowed to threaten my treasure.”

“And they say that mother bears are overprotective of their young… let's head home, Gunnar.”

* * *

Sigmund was torn about the jobs results.

On one hand, they dedicated the monster hunter numbers and freed all their captives.

But one got away and Gunnar told him about Einar and Sigmund was not happy about it.

“Well… oh well. Monsters hunters dealt with. Get some rest. Haakon you’re fighting Necromancers tomorrow and Gunnar? Feral vampire den with Anton tomorrow, setting off tomorrow. Now off.”

Feeling like he had been scolded like a child, Gunnar grumped off to find Asta. His sweet treasure was just getting up out of bed, groggily clinging to him when he picked her up out of the warm furs and held her close. She smelled warm and clean and just holding her again eased some of his worries.

“Good morning, my treasure.”

“Hi papa,” Asta yawned, slumping against him.

“Were you good?”

“Yes, papa… you smell like a storm, papa.”

“... Uncle Einar is back after papa’s sword, my treasure,” Gunnar sighed as he stroked his daughter’s hair.

“Do we have to run again?”

“For the moment, no treasure. But we need to keep an eye out and since I don’t always have you with me now, I need you to be careful. Okay?

“Yes, papa.”

“Now. Breakfast my treasure?”

She sleepily nodded, letting herself be carried and coddled by her fretful father and Gunnar could not be more happy that his treasure indulged him like she did sometimes.

* * *

“ _Your dialect is improving. You know longer sound like you came out of ancient history,_ ” Gunnar noted as he walked with Anton.

The sun was setting and soon it would be night. Normally for vampires this was their time of power, but Anton had been suffering from the vampirism virus for so long that the virus was no longer hampered by the production of vitamin D of the mostly dead skin. The adapting virus, vampirism was, if slowly. Two thousand years… Anton had to be the king of all the vampires at that age.

“ _Yes, well… adaptation and all that,_ ” Anton said achingly flat and dull like.

“ _...Are you well?_ ”

“ _Bored. When you’ve been alive as long as I’ve been, you start to notice a pattern in humanity and no matter. And even the most interesting mortals follow it to some degree. When you see the patterns as often as I do, you start being able to guess what happens next. And when you keep correctly guessing what happens next… everything is really fucking boring,_ ” Anton sighed.

“ _Aye, sounds about right,_ ” Gunnar sighed right back.

“ _You? You’re interesting in a different sense though… I’m having a hard time getting a read on you._ ”

“ _That a good or bad thing?_ ”

“ _I haven’t decided yet… you’re hiding secrets, I know that. Something big and personal. What you’re hiding I have yet to figure out_ \--”

“ _I’m going to keep it that way. Secrets are named as such for a reason._ ”

“ _Fair… but traveling with you is refreshing and breaks some of the boredom at least._ ”

“Glad I could be so entertaining,” Gunnar grumbled.

“ _I understood that._ ”

Gunnar stuck his tongue out at Anton, glaring with only a little heat at the dark skinned elf. Quick fingers caught his tongue and those normally expressionless lips quirked up into a smirk as Gunnar frowned playfully at him. But Anton relented, actually chuckling when Gunnar blew a childish noise at him before continuing to walk together.

“ _I heard about your brother._ ”

“ _Yeah._ ”

“ _My condolences. I shall watch your offspring when you are not around._ ”

“ _You’re the most amazing thing ever to her, I’m sure she’ll love that…_ ”

Anton said nothing else and Gunnar was grateful. Anything more would have broken something. He had no names for that something, but it would have broke.

* * *

The ferals were easy to take care off. 

They were a lot further gone then the job information initially provided, eyes wide and bloodshot and skin drawn slightly tight over their skin as though heavily dehydrated and fangs and talons poking out of their dried out gums and fingertips. They were little more than rabid dogs. They snarled as they looked up for the butchered wild animals that they had captured in the woods, mouths and hands stained with gore and guts because launching themselves at them with no coordination or skill.

Gunnar was still glad that he had his armor and good about protecting his face and his blind side. Their fangs and talons barely scratched the good steel and yet they persisted in trying to attack it. Easy work for his blade, especially if he punched or kicked them away. 

Also Anton was with him. Gunnar saw claws and fangs smash and stab into the elf’s skin, but left no visible mark of any pressure having been applied. It seemed that Anton was extremely tough and strong, tossing ferals with bone shattering and life ending force. While Gunnar slashed and cut off heads, Anton ripped the fearls limb from limb or simply crushed anything that seemed vital, killing them. Anton muttered something about ‘newborns’ and figured that was their saving grace against them. Had they been stronger, it would have taken several steps to fully and outright kill them and even then.

What surprised Gunnar during the fight was that Anton killed them without a hint of remorse or care for them being one of his kind. Sure they were blood driven insane and little more then rabid animals at this point and very slim chance of saving… but maybe that was just poor thinking on Gunnar’s part. In fact he sure was it. After all, kinship among vampires was probably a touchy thing. How did one feel kinship over a malignant disease that made one suck the life essense of living creatures?

Gunnar had jokingly thought of Anton as king of the vampires because of his age but… what king would he be? His subjects just all disease carriers that could become feral animals simply from feeding themselves. A kingdom of blood, violence and death. That was no kingdom a sane man could want. 

Regardless. Afterwards, Anton was still adamant about Gunnar washing the blood from himself when the last creature was well and truly dead.

“ _We have no idea their ages, even if they were easy to kill. Wash it off else the toxin may find a way into skin,_ ” Anton said, pushing Gunnar and Gunnar really having no choice with the strength of the man. “ _Wash that shit off. Now, child._ ”

“Fine, but you’re not joining me,” Gunnar huffed as Anton lead them to a river. Thankfully the closest river was in a wooded area, so Gunnar had no worries of random travelers stumbling onto him without at least a little worry.

“ _Shy?_ ” Anton snarked.

“Yes actually. I’ve got scars up the ass all over my body and I haven’t been naked around anyone in almost seven years. Piss off,” Gunnar deadpanned.

Anton shrugged but let Gunnar do his thing, walking off into the woods to give Gunnar some privacy. 

Which Gunnar used quickly, taking off his armor with speed and carefully cleaning the blood from the surface and underneath if he thought it got through. Armor cleaned, Gunnar left it set out to quickly air dry before turning to himself and looking himself over. Unfortunately there was a bit along the collar of his shirt, staining the dull material with a diseased maroon. With a grunt, Gunnar took it off and used the river to clean the spot out and then drew a handful of water to his bare chest to scrub along his skin where the fabric had touched.

Cleaned, he pulled his shirt back and got his armor on just in time for Anton to find him again.

“ _...I’m sorry for my comment before. About you being shy._ ”

“Sorry for snapping. A man my age shouldn’t be ashamed of his scars but… I’ve had one hell of a life and it’s left its mark in places that still hurt.”

Anton nodded and then smiled at him. He squeezed the man’s shoulder affectionately and gave him a smile in turn before they headed home.


	5. Where the Wilds grow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Language, violence
> 
> Another piece of the mysterious' man past falls into place

More and more jobs came in about monster hunters amassing in large groups that needed killing. Gunnar got sent out on a fair share of them and that blue magical staining always seemed to pop up in a few squirrely, wild eye bastard that came at him like rabid dogs. It popped up in other reports too from similar jobs. Einar leaving his mark, like a fucking disease.

But there were no reports of the man himself. No thirty something year old man with black hair and blue eyes and a enchanted metal arm prosthetic that bled magic from the potency of it and that left staining on the people that he struck. Which was very unlike Einar. Cocky, ‘cool as shit’ asshole was always there to make grand speeches and try and sway people with the power of his well scripted words. It was not like him to be a ghost, a shadow in the darkness, background noise in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps he was trying a new technique in getting the sword…

“Papa?”

They had taken to being outside to get some sun and spend time together. Gunnar had Asta seated in his lap at one of the tables outside as she painted pictures in the warm sunlight. Asta’s head was tilted back as far as her body could allow, blinking up owlishly at him, her attention shifted away from her drawings on the table before them.

“Sorry treasure, papa was thinking. Do you need something, my dear?”

Asta pointed her paintbrush across the training yard. It took a moment for Gunnar to focus and when he did, he found that she was pointing at Haakon across the yard. Said man was down to his trousers and that delightfully built warrior’s body was on display as the man chopped wood with Andromeda. Haakon was, for lack of a better term, staring at him intently as he worked. However, upon being caught staring, Haakon lost his grip on his axe and it went flying mid swing, much to the wheezing delight of Andromeda as the man flushed with shame.

“Why was he staring at you?”

“Maybe he thinks papa is good looking?” Gunnar chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.

Asta stuck her tongue out at him before giggling.

But it brought an awkward subject matter to mind. Now that they had a semi-stable housing, it was very possible that Gunnar could pursue a romantic relationship or something more ‘mature’ since he did not need to keep a constant watch on Asta.

Gunnar had avoided it after realizing that Asta was on her way, cold cut it out of his life. And especially avoided it after Asta was physically in his life. Before Asta… he had had only flings and such. Too stupid and too young in an aging body. And now that he was in a stable environment… well the thought terrified him because he was inching his way towards forty and had yet to have a relationship that had lasted longer than his last fling, Arild, and the man’s whopping four months.

“Papa, you’re shaking.”

“Papa’s scared, treasure,” Gunnar managed out, rubbing his face tiredly.

“About?”

“...Adult things that are kind of hard to explain.”

“Adult things you can’t talk about them ‘lest you scar my poor little ears’ or…”

“Adults are weird and complicate things for no reason.”

“‘Even papa doesn’t understand adult things’, got it.”

Gunnar laughed and kissed her hair.

“Treasure… can I ask you something serious?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Would you be opposed to papa… finding someone that could be you other parent?”

“Like a husband or wife sort of thing?”

“Yes.”

“Depends.”

“On if they’re good or not?”

“To you. And I guess me. I want papa to be happy.”

He kissed his sweet treasure’s head again.

“Is Haakon gonna be my other papa?”

“Asta! That’s a little fast!” Gunnar wheezed.

Asta blew a childish noise at him before giggling when he got her little nose between his index and thumb. He grinned and let her little nose go before giving her forehead a little kiss, letting Asta turn her attention back to her drawings for the moment.

“Okay, this one is definitely the gold dragon you like so much. Lovely use of yellow and brown to get the right color. And this one is… Huntress?”

“Yeah!”

“You got to show her, she’ll love it. Is that one master Sigmund?”

“Yeah, his beard is hard to paint.”

“Yeah, very scraggly… This one is the twins!”

Asta giggled.

* * *

His next job was a welcome relief from the onslaught of monster hunter killing jobs.

“The time has come. Necromancers,” Sigmund said as he handed over the job slip with all the information to him. “Nasty little shits. You dealt with them before?”

“One or two on their own, people trying to raise creatures to follow their command. I heard rumors of a few necromancers trying to raise powerful warriors but--”

“Yeah, divine intervention on that. The War Maiden doesn’t like it when people try and take her resting warriors from their haven in the beyond. But a goddess willing to slam into the earth and set them all on pikes isn’t enough to deter these folks apparently. So you’re job is go to the location and wipe them all out.”

Gunnar peered at the slip, trying to recall where it was.

“Take Haakon.”

“Alright… maybe he’ll know where this place is, cause I certainly don’t.”

Gunnar found the man outside, taking swings at Steel as they two went around and around.

It was something of a marvel to see Haakon move. Fully armored and weighed down, but he moved just as easily as Gunnar did in the same circumstances. The man was muscular, but there was a potent strength there too that had Gunnar in awe and wondered what his limit was. One of these days, Gunnar needed to fight against the man to taste that strength.

“Mind if I take Haakon?” Gunnar called out over their clashing swords.

“What for?” Steel asked as his sword met Haakon’s shield once again.

“Job. Necromancers. Sigmund’s orders,” Gunnar rattled off.

Steel snorted and Haakon retorted by planting a armored foot on the Orc’s stomach and kicking. With force. Steel went tumbling, losing his sword quick to avoid bloody accidents, rolling until he hit fencing and stopped short. The Orc grunted loudly as he tried to right himself, gasping for air. Haakon just grunted louder before taking off his helmet to address Gunnar properly.

“What was that?” Gunnar asked.

“Nothing. He’s being a brat again. Give me half an hour to get myself ready and we’ll set out to…”

Gunnar helped up the slip, letting the man peer at it to read Sigmund’s slanted handwriting.

“Ah. That’s a week’s journey to and from, I suggest checking up on the pup.”

“Shit… you’re right.”

“... You can’t take her, Gunnar.”

“I know! I… I know…”

Haakon patted his shoulder before giving him a slight push, waiting until Gunnar was walking before helping Steel up and apologizing for the rude behavior.

Grunting, Gunnar found Asta inside, drawing at a table with Garth. The normally sour man was drawing what looked like magic related circles while Asta painted what looked like a spread of flowers. After a moment, Garth slid one of his drawings over to Asta surprisingly. She would appraise it quite seriously before adding something and sliding it back for Garth to study as though he had just struck a certain kind of gold.

“Uh…” Gunnar started.

“A child’s mind is not limited like an adults. Their perspectives are freshing and limitless, boundless and free,” Garth said seriously. “I am currently seeing if Asta can help me progress on my project for more powerful flame runes and traps.”

“...Hey Garth, do me a favor and ask next time?”

Garth glanced sideways at the cold anger in his eye and just nodded once, understanding the threat hidden within his words.

“Asta, papa needs to talk to you.”

Asta left the drawings behind, jumping down from the chair and padding over to him and putting her arms up to be picked up. Gunnar whisked her away from Garth that had smartly gone back to working on his runes. He would apologize later, but right Asta needed to know that he was going to be gone for two weeks.

“What’s wrong, papa?” Asta asked as he took them outside. The evening was falling and soon it would get dark. The rich reds, oranges and yellows were thrown over Asta’s face and made the lively brown of her eyes and the warm brown of her soft cheeks. His beautiful treasure.

“Papa has to go kill some necromancers, treasure. But where they are… it’s really far away. Papa’s gonna be gone two weeks, maybe almost three if things go wrong…” 

It felt like a kick to the teeth to say it to her, to watch her sweet little face crash as the news struck her poor little heart. They had never been that far apart for that long. Not in all six years of her life. These past few weeks had been good practise to making them less codependent on each other’s presence. But two weeks? Maybe three? Unheard of.

“Are… are we going to be okay?”

Asta’s eyes watered and she scrunched up her face in anger. She was trying not to cry, for him, because she knew seeing her cry broke his heart. He hated when she thought of him like this.

“Come on sweet treasure, talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Asta gritted out between her teeth, straining to hold back the tears.

“I know treasure. And trust me, I don’t want to leave you but… I can’t take you. You remember that one fight with that necromancer I had? You watched from a distance. You saw what happened when that man was just throwing spells. It killed everything around him. Trees, plants, those rabbits and and bird. You’re… you’re a tough girl, Asta. But you’re a child. And this is a whole camp…”

Asta sniffled, her little lips squirming, fighting and apparently losing the battle against not shedding her tears.

“Asta. I love you. You are my greatest treasure. Nothing I ever gain in life will surpass you. That’s why you have to stay here. Just the thought of even a chance being there of losing you…”

“I understand,” Asta managed, voice trembling and quivering.

“You don’t have to not be upset. You can be upset all you want. Papa is gonna be upset without you too. Probably will cry right here and now if you do too, just as a warning.”

Asta huffed, and then smacked her head into his shoulder and just started weeping her poor little heart out. Gunnar hugged her close and maybe shed a tear or two into her soft, curly hair.

* * *

“We’ll watch her,” Huntress said as Gunnar and Haakon went off the next morning. Asta was clinging to him, hugging his legs and looking morose.

“ _Shouldn’t be too hard. She’s a good little one,_ ” Anton said.

“And I’ll be back as soon as physically possible,” Gunnar said, musing her hair. “I won’t let my treasure go unguarded personally for too long, right Asta?”

Asta shrugged and squeezed his legs harder.

“I promise, my treasure. You know I keep my promises.”

Finally, Asta relented and let his legs go, huffing up at him. He got down on his knees and hugged her once more for the road and gave her head a kiss before leaving her under the care of Huntress and Anton until he got back. Though, he could not resist looking back until the guild hall was out of sight, and even then he kept glancing back until the city gates were closed behind them and they were well on their way.

“We’ll be back,” Haakon assured him.

“Pardon my snippiness, but I KNOW,” Gunnar groaned out.

Haakon said nothing.

“Silver tongue devil, my ass,” Gunnar muttered underneath his breath.

“Hey now!”

Gunnar laughed and Haakon huffed indignantly.

“And now that we’re in equally bad moods. Mind telling me why exactly Sigmund put me on this and Steel laughed about it? In fact, we’ve been paired off a lot lately…” Gunnar pointed out.

“Sigmund thinks we work best together is all. And you can’t deny that we do good work together.”

“True. But the same could be said about you and Sonja. Or you and your brother. Or me and Anton. Or me and your brother.”

“Sigmund… has issues with people not working together on a personal level. It’s one thing to work well skill set wise with someone. But if you absolutely hate the person or are always fighting, then missions become a hassle and people are less likely to go on them or volunteer for them if they think they can get paired with people they don’t like.”

“Ah, the issue with the whelps Sigmund mentioned?”

“Yeah. Big personalities, a lot of them, so they’re worried about taking jobs and doing nothing but fighting and bickering the whole time. You got whelps too paranoid about taking jobs because they don’t want to spend up to a month being absolutely fucking miserable. I tell Sigmund this but…”

“So when he finds people that work together and generally keeps them together… Okay but that doesn’t answer why Steel thought it was funny.”

“...I refuse to answer that on the basis that I will incriminate myself.”

“Okay… wait… YOU HAVE A CRUSH DON’T YOU.”

“As soon as we get back, I’m telling Sigmund we had a huge fight and can’t work together anymore!” Hakkon yelled, face beat red as he marched on ahead.

“NO! Wait, come back!” Gunnar laughed as he ran after the man. “Come on!”

“I will not be mocked!”

“I’m not mocking you,” Gunnar said as he caught the man, slinging an arm around his shoulders and pulling on him until he got the hint and walked beside him. “And I’m sorry I laughed. I was surprised is all. It’s been awhile since I thought about such things or focused on anything that wasn’t Asta or her wellbeing.”

“Surely a man like you has had admirers…”

“Haakon, dearest, I can honestly say and swear on Asta’s being that I haven’t noticed since her birth,” Gunnar said flatly.

“You… are truly an overly devoted father.”

“I’m aware,” Gunnar groaned, rolling his eyes before returning his hard stare to the man. “Anyway, you’re derailing the subject. I’m not mocking you for having a crush. Gods know most people have them and sometimes can’t help having them on certain people.”

“Are you saying you’re bad certain person?” Haakon snarked.

“I’m not bad!”

“Well to be fair on that particular point, I hardly know you,” Haakon deadpanned. “So I can’t say if you are or not. And you’re biased so you cannot say on yourself.”

“Well… we got the time, how about we fix not knowing each other? What do you want to know?”

Hakkon mulled that for a moment, Gunnar noting idly that the man had yet to try and remove the arm around his shoulders. But just idly.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Uh… hold on I have to translate the name. Um… in human tongue I think it would be called… ‘The north branch that holds the bird’s nest’?”

“That sounds…”

“LIke Wilds’ territory? It is. I’m half Wilds elf.”

Haakon balked at that.

“Oh right, the hair, let me just--” Gunnar shifted his hair off his ears and tucked the excess behind them. “--There. See?”

Gunnar had indeed inherited most everything from his mother like his brother had. The height, the tendency for muscle growth, blue eyes and some of her Northern paleness. But Gunnar had ears that were most notably pointed (and on a side note, was a noticeable few shades darker then his mother and brother). While they were nothing that screamed ‘elf’ like the long ears of the elven races, they were enough that one could tell that Gunnar was not totally human.

“Oh… wow. So… if you buried your mother here, that would mean your father was a Wilds Elf?”

“Yep. At some point I am going to have to go visit him and tell him about mother’s funeral. But I did tell him about potentially settling here, so I don’t have to go right away.”

They passed by several hours of Haakon asking about little insignificant details about Gunnar’s life and self. And Gunnar would answer as best he could, sometimes rambling off into insignificant but related side stories that enthralled Haakon nonetheless. Sometimes Haakon would offer information in return in little side notes ‘Oh I like that too’ or ‘huh, I like this and never knew someone else could like that’ or ‘I did that too’. But the point of their talking was for Gunnar to tell Haakon about himself. They would do it the other way around another time. They certainly had the time for it.

“Wait, if you have a fake eye in your skull, why wear the patch?” Haakon asked as they paused on the side of the road, contemplating what they wanted to do for the evening. There was a small village ahead but it would be dark by the time they got there. And they could camp too but they would need to make most everything they needed for the night, since they only had bedrolls and road rations.

“They eye has an enchantment on it. I didn’t want people getting the wrong idea that I could look through their homes or clothing or something,” Gunnar said.

“What kind?”

“A deep pain targeting soother,” Gunnar lied, lifting up the patch to show off his eye. 

Most fake eyes were make of smooth material, like glass and a few other safe materials for the body. They were also often dyed to look as closely human as possible, with a few artists plying their trade to help paint eyes to look as realistically as possible. However, Gunnar’s was notably strange. Made of a rougher looking black material, the runes done in the surface were a striking gold with a gold ‘iris’ in the center.

“Strange,” Haakon said before returning to the issue at hand. “So. The woods or the last few miles to the village?”

“I’m tired. I haven’t walked that much in a few months. Let’s use one of the bedrolls to make a canopy and just lay the other on the ground to sleep on.”

“Aye, sounds good.”

They found a spot mostly hidden from the road in the woods along the left side of the road. Gunnar used his for the ‘bedding’ since his was larger for his larger frame and Haakon used his to give them shelter. They undid most of their armor and set it off to the sides before setting their weapons with easy reach in case of attack. They slept back to back to watch other’s blind spots and settled down for the night.

Gunnar had an idly thought that he hoped no wild creatures attacked them before falling asleep.

* * *

“ _I wonder why your ears are pointed,_ ” Anton noted to the little one as she sullenly picked at her supper.

Andromeda, in an attempt to make the little one feel better, had taken and braided her hair since they had the similar corkscrewing texture to their own hair. With her hair no longer a mass of curls, her little ears had been revealed and even Andromeda had been shocked to see the definite point to the soft cartilage. While it was not likely that she was more than half, it brought a whirlwind gust to the rumor mill about Gunnar and Asta’s other parent.

Which of course, Anton silenced by taking up the sullen little one and taking her away from whispering adults with nothing better to do. Now he was watching this poor creature mope and was now looking her over for lack of something better to do.

It was very obvious that whomever was Asta’s other parent that they were not a northern person. She dark skin, almost as dark as Anton’s skin. She also held humanoid features that the Celestial Elves also held, from her hair texture to her rounded and larger nose tip, to the fuller lips and the eye shape. If she were half Celestial though, she would hold some features that would make it painfully obvious, whether it be the skin being black as obsidean like Andromeda, or Galaxies marks on her skin, or even the black eye whites and white irises. But she had none of those.

“ _Do you even know your other parent?_ ” Anton hummed as he watched her pick apart a meat pie, looking for vegetables.

“No,” Asta muttered.

“ _You speak our tongue?_ ” Anton asked, eyebrows hitching in surprise.

“Only hear it,” Asta said, prying her food further apart and then shifting it this way and that.

“ _... So you don’t know your other parent but you understand the Wilds tongue…_ ”

“My grandpa is a elf,” Asta said, her tone dripping with annoyance stemming from being prodded while in a sour mood.

“ _A Wild’s elf?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Interesting._ ”

Asta huffed quietly. Anton took pity on her and left her be, especially since he might have reminded her of her grandfather and thus partially of her father. So instead of prodding further, he offered to take her plate for her. And in their stead, getting up and gathering several fruits and vegetables on a plate and returning with that. Her mood seemed lightened a small fraction as she took to nibbling on those with slightly more gusto.

“ _Your father misses you, little sapling. Do not doubt that._ ”

“I know…”

“... _You have mentioned wanting to learn archery from Huntress, but your father was worried about you possibly getting hurt. How about, until he gets back, I teach you some basics?_ ”

Asta’s eyes lit up at that.

“What do you know about archery?”

“ _Little sapling, I am well over two thousand years old. You don’t think I haven’t at least learned a little bit of everything at this point?_ ” Anton chuckled fondly.

Asta stuck her tongue out at him before chuckling herself.

* * *

The smell of necromancers was something one never forgot, nor could ever accurately describe. Gunnar always thought they smelled like someone who’s clothing consisted of nothing but things they stole off corpses left out in the sun. The smell of a person was still there, but almost choked out by the strong smell of rot and decay. Haakon said he described it as a corpse that was half pristine and half rotting for reasons unknown.

Whatever it was, the smell of rotting on a human being was never a good sign, but especially so if they were wearing magi clothing or looked like they had just started finished grave digging overnight. 

Also them being dead with several arrows protruding from their person was also not a good sign and one that had Gunnar and Haakon scratching their heads as they looked over the decimated camp. High noon too, it was the earliest that they had reached the described location from the job slip and locals giving them helpful pointed fingers. So… what happened?

“Can’t be spell or ritual gone wrong, their creations are tied to their being. If they die, the thing they brought back dies. And I don’t see a risen corpse laying anywhere,” Haakon noted.

“These arrows are…” Gunnar ripped one free from a corpse and looked it over. Steel-bark, raw metal arrowhead, brilliantly colored feathers at the ass of the shaft, A Wilds Elf arrow and one with a signature flair. These were… very familiar.

“What did this?”

“I did this.”

Gunnar turned around to see someone with a very large bow and--

“Father?” Gunnar said before grinning broadly as he easily recognized the Wilds Elf standing there. Hardly look much older then Gunnar himself but Wilds Elves lived much longer than humans. “Old man!”

Gunnar rushed up to the man, easily picking him up with how much smaller he was, and squeezing him tightly.

“Father?” Haakon asked as he approached them.

“What? I told you,” Gunnar said, putting his father down. “Half Wilds Elf. Well here’s the reason for that. Haakon, this is my father. His name is…”

“Call me Arrow for now,” Arrow said, before giving Haakon a slight bow. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure…”

“Sweet sapling, I’m sorry for us meeting like this, but I wanted to know how your mother’s funeral went,” Arrow said, turning his attention back to Gunnar.

“Couldn’t find a tomb. They’ve got an undead problem. So I set her out to sea,” Gunnar sighed. “Now the waves carry her.”

“It’s what she would have wanted, sweet sapling,” Arrow said, lifting an hand to place on Gunnar’s arm.

“I know…” Gunnar groaned before quickly diverting the conversation before he started blubbering about his mother. “You just saved us a lot of time.”

“We’re part of the Warrior’s Guild, we were sent out to kill these necromancers,” Haakon explained.

“Well… apologies. We elves hold the dead in high regard so we treat the undead dancers with no mercy,” Arrow said flatly, not at all apologetic.

“A wise ideology,” Haakon said back.

“So! I guess that means we need to head back home!” Gunnar said. “Wanna follow us back?”

“No need, I…” Arrow paused and peered at him for a moment, before slipping around him, slipping underneath his cloak and making a noise when he discovered that Asta was not there, nor her sling. When he popped back out, his eyebrows were hitched. “Where is your seedling?”

“She’s back at the Warrior’s Guild,” Gunnar sighed. “She… she wouldn’t be safe out here. We both knew the day would come, father.”

“...I see. Very well. I will follow you back, but sweet sapling? You know I can’t stay.”

“Never expected you too. The Wilds are your home and always will be.”

“I’m also a councilman now.”

“Now when the fuck did that happen?”

“Well, the walk back should be interesting,” Hakkon chuckled as Arrow first berated Gunnar for his language and then went on to question him about why he was so surprised.

* * *

“Asta!”

Asta looked up from the puppies she was currently trying pick clean of sticks, leaves and sticky sap covered things. The sweet thing brightened right up at the sight of Gunnar, running as fast as her little legs could carry her and throwing herself at her father. Whom happily caught her and adoringly crushed her against his chest, squeezing her tight.

“My sweet treasure! Did you miss me?”

“Yeah! You were gone so long,” Asta said, hugging him as much as her much shorter arms would allow.

“I brought you someone,” Gunnar grinned crookedly.

“Little seedling,” Arrow said, stepping around Gunnar.

“Grandpa!” Asta yelled, smiling radiantly as Arrow stood on his toes to kiss her forehead so Gunnar did not have to relinquish her grasp.

“Grandpa came to see how well taking care of grandma went,” Gunnar explained.

“Also to see you two again. Our last meeting was brief and curse. I adore my little seedling and my sweet sapling and always cherish seeing them,” Arrow said, petting Asta’s hair sweetly before kissing the mass of curls. “Now, I’m sure you’re dying to catch up with your papa. I will stay for a bit, but for now, cheer up your grumpy father, seedling.”

“Hey!” Gunnar whined.

“Papa! I know how to shoot a bow now!” Asta grinned.

“I’m sorry. What.”

Now that Gunnar was set to yell at Anton while Asta looked on with confusion, Haakon approached Arrow though… hesitantly. 

Wilds elves were… one with nature on a level that not even the City Elves could not explain. They had this aura about them that made them seem ethereal and pseudo-god like to wolves like Haakon. Wolves naturally worshipped nature and to see a creature that was attuned and one with it was meeting a personal god. The wolf inside of Haakon was not sure to be in awe or show its throat in submission.

“So,” Haakon started lamely as Arrow watched his son and granddaughter and Anton from a distance.

“So,” Arrow mimicked. His eyes were a dark and dull grey color with a dark and beetle green color. Pure Wilds Elves eyes.

“I was wondering… if I may… ask a bit about Gunnar?” Haakon asked meekly.

“Is he doing that thing where he talks an hour about himself and you feel like you’ve learned nothing?” Arrow said, thin lips quirked up into a small, little knowing smirk. “He’s had that issue since childhood.”

“Just a few things, I promise. If that’s alright?”

“Very well. Though somethings I will keep private, you understand.”

“Of course… Gunnar as a child, what was he like?”

“Wild and boundless,” Arrow sighed, wistful and nostalgic. “He climbed, he played, he laughed and smiled and seemed to have this boundless energetic spirit inside of him. He fit right in with the Wilds children. Tempered only by his good soul and good morals. Now he is tempered by age and responsibility and perhaps… some ills in his life.”

“A wild child… it feels fitting somehow. As a teenager, how was he like?”

“Much the same. Only with a growing wonderlust, a burning need to see the world and all it had to offer. He wanted to explore and we knew he would become an adventurer like his mother. And he did.”

“...Do you know Asta’s other parent?”

“Ah, the burning question. I do. But that is something Gunnar will have to tell you when he trusts you, green sapling. Asta’s parents, her birth and a few details about Gunnar are… hard to share since they involve things that one does not always understand or encounter. Gain his trust and he will tell you in time, green sapling.”

Haakon nodded before turning to look at the man. This man that vexed him so. The… wonderful handsome man that seemed full of humor and wit and boundless good. The parent that tried so hard to keep his pup safe and happy and cared for. Was it his heart that was fascinated and drawn in or the wolf that saw a good partner and deemed him worthy of the hunt?

For now he was unsure but… this? This was okay.


End file.
